


Team Mother

by Stuffy (AlexKingOfTheDamned)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Asexual Character, Bottom Engineer, Enemas, F/M, Feeding Kink, Honestly too many things to tag, If there's something important I've missed let me know and I'll tag it, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgy, Stuffing, Top Engineer, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 106,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2496695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/Stuffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Engineer thinks that just about everybody on his team would be better off overall if they were fed up until they can't breathe. </p><p>He decides it's just about time to take matters into his own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sniper

**Author's Note:**

> This was our first major kink fic ever! I think it might be the longest kink fic of all time but.... don't quote me on that. 
> 
> Now posted to AO3 for your convenience~

Engineer didn’t plan on making friends when he joined the war. He’s a mercenary, there with a job he inherited thanks to the genius of his grandfather. He’d learned all the old man had to teach about machines and more, his own talents with a wrench soon apparent and taking him leaps and bounds ahead of his classmates in college. He took the job for two simple reasons, he needed a job and he liked to build guns. It was that simple. He wasn’t there to socialize.

But little by little, accidentally, all the mercs grew to tolerate and even like each other. Engineer and Soldier were considered best friends by the others though they never confirmed or denied it. Engie was pretty sure Jane liked him for being American and a calming presence, less likely to set him off than the other ‘maggots’. Engineer didn’t mind. He like Solly just fine. In fact he likes almost all of them.

The least surprising is his closeness to Sniper. From the first day they had found a common interest, their preference for sleeping outside instead of in the barracks. They preferred moon and stars and the still desert, similar to both their homes, to cold metal and snoring fighters all around them. Sniper slept in his camper, windows open on nice nights, and more often than not offered Engineer a place beside it for the night as long as he set up sentries to keep them alive until morning.

This led to them getting up together and heading into the ‘office’ together. They had their morning coffee together after the engineer had finished off his heaping plate of eggs, sausage, bacon and grits. Sniper usually slept through breakfast so Engineer never made him a plate. There just wasn’t time.

But after a few weeks watching Sniper head off to war with nothing but a cup and a half of coffee in his stomach Engineer started thinking. He never saw the Australian eat a full meal. Now and then he’d catch him finishing off a piece of plain bread that he hoped was part of a larger meal but even these glimpses were rare. It made the Texan worry.

He’d noticed right from the start how skinny Sniper is, of course. It was one of the first things he remembered about him after they met. He was too thin. It was a hard thing to miss, especially for a man who was used to second and third helpings with almost every meal. He came from Texas after all, and everything is bigger in Texas. To him Sniper was like a toothpick.

He ignored it, figured he worked out or had a fast metabolism at first. But after months of seeing him eat only unbuttered toast and the occasional bite of fruit here and there to avoid scurvy it started to bother the engineer. But he didn’t say anything. It didn’t seem right to interfere.

They started getting closer though, and Engineer tried to bring it up as subtly as he could. I haven’t been to the mess hall yet, wanna come along? I’m not gonna finish all this you want any? But it never took. And the longer he looked the more skeletal Sniper became in his mind. Slender (if toned) arms and skinny legs turned to sticks propping up a bean pole thin body. It wasn’t that Sniper was losing weight, but that the Engineer was growing more and more frustrated with his friend’s lack of substance.

Which meant he took almost every opportunity to inspect every inch of the aussie. Luckily, Sniper wasn’t the shy sort and was more than happy to undress when the sun got too high and the desert burned a little too hot.

The first time Engie saw him shirtless was a few months after they’d met. He was playing his guitar after dinner one night, under the moon, and Sniper had tugged off his shirt and laid back on the cooling sand. Engie’s eyes had been drawn to him immediately and he’d missed a note in the song. For a moment he wasn’t worried about Sniper. Too thin arms and legs aside there was a layer of fat on the man’s lower belly that had Engie more than a little hot under the collar. The way it pressed and rolled a little over the man’s pants called to the Texan, begging him to set aside his guitar and give the soft flesh a little nibble.

But his eyes roamed upwards, hoping for healthy lean muscle and maybe a little more of that soft pudge, only to be greeted by the ghastly sight of the other man’s ribs jutting out of his body, skin pulled to taught over the hard lines of bone that had the Engineer’s stomach rumbling in pity hunger. It ain’t right. And that’s when he decides something has to be done.

Sniper’s a polite sort of fella. His parents raised him that way. He’s a good boy, always has been. But that doesn’t mean he’s humble.

He’s always been a little too wrapped up in himself, maybe. That probably came from spending years alone on the outback, with nothing for company but his own thoughts. He was the most important thing in his life for years. He was the _only_ thing in his life for years.

So when the Engineer offers to cook for him, he accepts in a nanosecond. He’s got no reason to say no. He’s not the sort of man who refuses charity. And as much as he likes food, he’s never been a big eater. If he puts any thought into it, it probably also comes from spending so long out in the outback. He’d hunt occasionally, but no matter how much excess he had, he still ate like a bird. He’d be out for weeks sometimes, months before he returned home, and he had to make sure he had enough to eat something every day.

It’s not that he has a problem with eating full meals. When he returned home, his mother would always coax another helping into him and he wouldn’t turn her down. He doesn’t mind eating more than he really needs, as long as it isn’t _his food_.

So why in God’s name would he refuse the Engineer’s offer to cook for him? He can’t deny his cooking has always smelled heavenly when they’re sitting around the fire at night, fat sausage and fluffy eggs and thick cuts of meat and buttery biscuits. It’s no wonder the Engineer is a little soft around the middle himself. (Privately at night, sometimes Sniper will lie awake wondering what it would be like to sit down on top of the Engineer and sink his fingers in.) And he’d be sitting there with his apple and bologna sandwich from the mess hall but he wouldn’t outright ask for any food from him. He’s too polite for that kind of thing. If Engie had ever offered he wouldn’t have said no, but apparently he looked pretty content with his bare sandwich because he never did.

Until now.

Engie doesn’t invite him over right away. He invites him for dinner two nights later, giving himself plenty of time to prepare. This meal is going to be a masterpiece. Everything has to be good enough that sight and smell alone have Sniper’s mouth watering and once he gets a taste he won’t be able to stop until he’s finished every bite.

That means biscuits and gravy, sausage, steak, corn, rice, chili, ribs, everything he can whip up that sizzles and smells like heaven. Sniper isn’t going to know what hit him.

Sniper thinks it’s a little strange that Engineer would invite him to his barracks inside the base. He knows they both have a room in the RED base, but Engie uses it primarily for storage, and he’s barely ever set foot in his own. But when he heads down the long stairway that leads to Engineer’s boiler room basement lab area, the smell of his cooking wafts around him and he honestly couldn’t care about the bizarre location.

Most of the Engineer’s things seem to have been shoved over to occupy one third of the room, leaving the rest of it open. Tables and desks are covered in hot plates to keep them warm, despite the already suffering heat of the boiler just down the hall. Sniper takes his hat off to avoid overheating before he even reaches the bottom step. There’s a chair set up for both him and the Engineer, and he can’t help but notice that the bed has been cleared off, rolled up blueprints and boxes messily thrown under it.

It doesn’t occur to him that the location is chosen only partially for privacy by the Engineer. The other part is his quiet hope that the heat will make the Sniper strip his clothes off.

“Well, I’ll be stuffed!” Sniper exclaims at the mountains of plates set out in front of them. Engineer is standing beside the table fidgeting a little bit, his hardhat is off but his goggles are still in place. It’s hard to tell in the relatively low light, but he looks a bit flushed. That probably has to do with the oppressive heat, though. “Did you invite more company? This is a bit excessive for just the two of us.”

"Nope, just us," Engie assures him, his usual slow drawl a little hurried. He’s flushed and nervous, already imagining the other man leaning back in his chair, shirt off and pants unbuttoned, hands spread over his stomach, full for the first time in ages. He’s been thinking about it all day while he was cooking and now that he’s finally here he’s worried he’s going to say too much and scare the man off before he gets a bite of food in him.

A little jumpy, he approaches the aussie and takes his hat before ushering him over to the table. “Wanted you to be able to have a taste of everything. Whatever you can’t finish we’ll pack up and you can take back with you for later.”

Sniper is already undressing. The heat is claustrophobic, and his extra layers are completely unnecessary. He drapes his vest over the back of the chair that he takes graciously, long limbs bowed awkwardly around the side of the desk.

Engineer piles a plate for him with a little bit of everything after Sniper promises him he’s not a picky eater and he’d probably suck back anything Engie put in front of him. He fills a plate for himself too, even though he feels too anxious to eat. He’d probably remember his hunger as soon as he started eating, but he’s much more occupied with his thoughts of getting Sniper to eat.

Everything Sniper puts in his mouth has him moaning out compliments. They talk and laugh through their meal, discarding bones on an empty plate and sopping up gravy with bites of fluffy biscuit. Sniper relishes the feeling of filling up. The food is divine, if a little bit unhealthy, and he’ll probably feel sluggish the next day, but luckily for him they’re currently in the middle of a ceasefire that has lasted for a couple days already over some technicalities, and doesn’t seem to be letting up any time soon. Tomorrow he can just lounge in bed or in the shade beside his camper and probably pick at the leftovers Engineer promised him.

His plate is clean in less than half an hour and he sits back politely. The Engineer finished eating more than ten minutes ago, but Sniper has never been a very fast eater all his life.

"You up for some more?" Engie asks, standing up and taking both their plates. He doesn’t bother waiting for a reply before he starts heaping second helpings on, ribs and corn bread and coleslaw overflowing from the plate that he sets down on the table in front of his friend in a matter of seconds.

“Well I won’t say no,” Sniper laughs at his friend’s enthusiasm. “Not like you’re about to run out.”

The second plate seems even more delicious than the first. He’s not exactly hungry any more. In fact, the first plate filled him up pretty comfortably. Which means he can slow down and really appreciate the flavors of the second helping. The biscuits are so thick and savory with the gravy, the ribs fall right off the bones and the homemade barbeque sauce help them go down so smooth. The corn is perfectly salted and the coleslaw is tart and crunchy, the steak is seasoned and sharp on his tongue, the sausage is sweet and soft, the chili is spicy enough to make him sweat.

He pulls off his red overshirt halfway through the plate, leaving him in nothing but his tight white tank top. He’s too occupied with eating to notice the way Engineer’s staring at him. He doesn’t even notice that he’s barely picking at his own seconds in favor of watching Sniper from behind his goggles.

The tight white tank top the Sniper is wearing isn’t quite tight enough for the Engineer’s liking. He wants to see it stretched across the other man like his skin was stretched across his ribs. He wants the stitches straining to cover his flesh. Better yet he wants it so tight that the Sniper has to take it off.

He’d never considered how attractive Sniper is before. But that little bit of pudge on the aging man’s lower stomach had put all sorts of thoughts in his head. Most of them involving a well fed Sniper naked on his bed.

The second plate is cleared without much trouble. The Sniper feels warm and full, and a bit rounded out. He sits back in his chair contentedly, letting his back bow comfortably. Engineer’s eyes are fixated on the way Sniper’s stomach sticks out a little bit.

Sniper isn’t a stupid man. His _job_ is to observe. If he couldn’t notice the way the Engineer was looking at him, he wouldn’t be very good at his job. He might have been a little distracted by his own comfort and pleasure, but as soon as he’s done eating and he can sit back and relax, he can see the way Engie is staring him down. His face is definitely redder than it was before.

“See something you like, mate?” he teases, throwing an arm over the back of his chair.

The engineer clears his throat and looks away. He clears their plates and comes back with two bowls of soup, a palate cleanser of sorts for between courses. Not that there are any real courses to this meal but it’ll help Sniper recover a little before he starts in again.

"There ain’t much to look at yet. You’re a bit on the thin side there partner." Engie says as he sits back down.

Sniper scoffs, faking offense. “Thin? Are you kidding me? After all I’ve just eaten? I’ve already gotta be a couple pounds heavier than usual, thanks to you.”

The engineer shrugs as he tucks in to his soup. “Still look an awful lot like a poorly stuffed scarecrow to me. But that’s just one man’s opinion.”

“You trying to fatten me up?” Sniper grins and leans forward so he can sniff the soup. Like everything else, it smells to die for. He sips at the broth to sample its flavor, but it doesn’t take long before he’s heaping soft vegetables into the spoon.

Engie can’t help but grin as he watches Sniper swallowing down spoonful after spoonful. Half of the bowl is already gone before he bothers to answer.

"I am. More?"

Sniper chokes on a carrot. “Oh,” he looks up. Engineer slides a beer at him to clear his throat. The ease and swiftness with which Engie answered makes him feel a little warm. He gulps down half the beer, it’s inexplicably cold despite the heat of the basement lab, and the contrast makes his skin prickle.

Sitting back in his chair again, he feels comfortable and happy. There’s something about food prepared by someone else that always tastes so much better. He rubs at his full stomach thoughtfully as he looks the Engineer over.

“Take your goggles off,” he says, not exactly a command, but more than just a suggestion. He wants to see the look in the Engineer’s eyes. “It’s dark down here, and you ain’t welding anything.”

"I don’t…" The engineer starts. He always wears his goggles. It’s easier to keep them on when he’s not sleeping or showering because he never knows when he’ll need them. It makes sense to keep them on.

But he’s got the sniper half undressed already. It’s only fair. And he asked so nicely.

He takes the goggles off and sets them aside. He has to blink a few times to adjust to the lightness of the room without the goggles on but the room is dim enough that the change is easy.

Sniper’s teasing smirk fades into a small smile. “I didn’t know you have blue eyes,” he mutters, feeling an entirely different sense of warmth for a hiccup of a moment.

"Do I?" Engineer asks with mild interest. “‘Fraid I never noticed. You know I made some mac and cheese if you want some. It’s homemade, my ma’s recipe. You’ll love it. It’s the creamiest, cheesiest damn mac and cheese in the country."

Sniper’s smile is crooked when he accepts. He’s well full by this point, but Engineer is just so charming when he’s doting on him, and he’s missed being taken care of like this. He hasn’t been home in years, and he doesn’t indulge himself when he’s all alone. This is a nice change of pace to his usual routine of nibbling fruit and cheese and meat like a bat.

With the Engineer’s goggles off, he can see the way the man’s looking at him. He can _see_ the way Engie’s eyes roam his body, most clearly interested in his torso. Specifically, his steadily rounding stomach. His breath comes in a little shorter with every helping Engineer coaxes into him, but he hasn’t run out of room yet and Engineer hasn’t stopped being really endearingly handsome.

Mac and cheese and steak and biscuits, ribs and mashed potatoes, he tries everything on the table. He noticed Engineer stopped eating quite some time ago, but he’s too comfortable to ask questions. The flavors mingle on his tongue and the pleasure center of his brain is going haywire. He feels heavy and sated, and the way the Engineer just keeps _looking at him_ makes him shiver despite the heat inside and out.

He arches his hips a little bit to pop his belt and let it hang open, his button following suit a moment later to give himself more room. He ventures a groan of pleasure at the release of pressure and puts a hand over his stomach. It feels tight, beneath a soft, deceptive layer of pudge, and he rubs in slow circles. Engineer doesn’t even notice the way Sniper is looking directly at him, because his sight is so fixated by the other man’s round belly.

Engie’s breath catches in his throat when Sniper starts unbuttoning his pants. He’d hoped this would happen, had been trying to make it happen since he started cooking, but actually having it in front of him is almost enough to make him drop the plates of food he’s carrying.

Sniper looks beautiful. He’s glowing, his cheeks flushed with pleasure and warmth from good food and company. His eyes are bright and he’s sighing little happy sighs while he rubs his round, growing belly. He probably doesn’t even notice he’s doing it but the sounds of his enjoyment and the sight of him rounded out and touching himself have the Engineer’s overalls getting a little tight.

Sniper licks his lips when Engie sets down a pie in front of him. He’s never been big on sweets, but it’s apple pie so there’s a chance it could be tart. The Engineer cuts him a large slice, but one bite confirms that it’s a very, very sweet pie. It’s not that he dislikes sweet, but rather the sensation of his mouth and throat closing up around the cloying sugar. He dislikes honey and peanut butter for the same reason.

“Oh, that’s a bit thick,” he grunts and finishes off his second beer to wash it down. “Not sure I can eat this, it’s a might overwhelming.”

“Aw, come on,” Engie chuckles anxiously. He wants to see him bigger. “I made it just for you.”

Sniper licks his lips again and he looks over the Engineer. His shaking hands, his red cheeks, nervous eyes and noticeably tenting overalls. He hums a little at the sight of him. He’s not sure what about this has got him so hot. It might be all of Sniper’s undressing, but he’s gotten half-naked in front of Engie before. Maybe he gets off on domesticity, and the idea of preparing a meal for someone. Or maybe he just gets off on the way Sniper looks stuffed like a turkey. He’s spending an awful lot of time looking at his stomach.

“Maybe you should persuade me,” he offers, tilting his head back a little bit. “ _Convince_ me.”

"I can feed you if you’d like." Engineer says hastily, sliding his chair a little closer. He reaches out his organic hand and spreads it across the man’s expanding belly and chances rubbing the swollen flesh while he talks. "Feed you bite by bite, all you gotta do is lean back and let me take care of you. Really relax like you haven’t been able to since this war started. I’ll get you through that pie, don’t you worry."

Sniper’s breath instantly kicks up a notch and his groin flutters and tenses up as the blood in his body makes a sharp hike downwards. “Christ,” he mutters, his voice pitching even lower and rougher than usual. One corner of his mouth quirks up and he closes his hand over the back of Engie’s, encouraging him to keep touching. “Beginning to think you didn’t invite me here just to feed me.”

"I don’t want to lie to you friend," Engie says with a grin. He let’s Sniper guide his hand, showing him how and wear to rub so it’ll feel best for him. The other man is looking a little redder than before and he’s breathing a little faster. And it’ll be even better when he’s as full as he can possibly get, so full he can barely move. "Feedin’ you up might not have been all I had in mind for tonight. But dinner ain’t done yet. You cleared your plate, so now it’s time for dessert."

Sniper opens his mouth obediently for the presented pie. Engineer keeps the beer coming so he doesn’t suffocate under the sticky filling. The apples are just crisp enough to provide texture and the crust is buttery and flaky. He might not understand why Engineer likes this, but he’s not going to complain.

Engie doesn’t seem to want to feed him only one slice, though. By the last bite going down, Sniper’s starting to feel a little full to the gills, heavy and tight and a little itchy. He tugs his shirt over his head by the back and tosses it on the floor. His skin is a little shiny with sweat, both from the heat of the boiler and the excited pleasure filling every gap in his body that isn’t full of food.

He’s way beyond full by the first few bites of the second slice, trembling with cramps and moaning with mingled desire and pain. He pulls more desperately at Engineer’s hand to keep him rubbing between bites. His cock filled up as engorged as his stomach, fat and a little cranky stuffed down in his jeans.

“Was this your plan the whole time?” Sniper pants halfway through the slice of pie. “Gonna fill me up so much that I can’t walk enough to escape if I didn’t want you?” he groans around another bite of pie offered to him.

Engie pulls back a little, but never ceases rubbing Sniper’s belly to help hold the cramps at bay.

"I would never take advantage of you." Engineer says, exaggerating his offense with a gasp and a hand to the chest. "I ain’t that kind of man. You’re too skinny, I just wanted to feed you up a little. I can’t help it if well and truly sated is a good look on you, now can I?"

The moan that leaves Sniper when Engie’s hand ventures a little lower and closes around the little layer of fat at the bottom of his belly is immoral. The layer of fat which is probably going to be bigger after this meal, now that he thinks about it. He tilts his head back over the chair and tilts his hips up just a little higher to both ease the pressure in his stomach, and further present his aching package.

He grabs Engie by the back of the neck so abruptly that the startled Texan drops the fork. Sniper crushes their mouths together, licking past his lips when they part with a gasp and tasting the savory meal still fresh on his palate. He can’t eat another bite, his belly stuffed full from his hips to his ribs, jutting like a balloon was inflated under his skin.

“What plans did you have for me, then?” Sniper asks after he’s broken the kiss, still holding the Engineer by the scruff of his neck to keep him from pulling away. He’s half-hovering off his chair, both of his hands on Sniper’s stomach to keep him from falling right over. The Gunslinger’s fingers are so much more slender and cold than the fingers of his human hand, but both are providing an uncomfortable amount of pressure. “Once you had me full up to the ceiling, what were you going to do with me? You’re the sort of man who plans things out, ain’t ya? What were you gonna do with me?”

"I was gonna take you over to that bed over there," the engineer answers. His voice is low and husky and his accent is growing thicker the more aroused he becomes. "I was gonna _offer_ to take you to the bed over there. Then I was gonna undress ya, and touch every inch of you that I could. And that’s an awful lot darlin’ consider how many new inches of you there are.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sniper pants under his breath. “Do it, Christ, take me.”

The trip to the bed is quite an adventure, with Sniper’s new center of gravity, but the mattress is cool and soft under his weight and creaks when Engie climbs on top of him. He throws his arms around Engineer’s neck and pulls him in for another kiss, but the weight of Engie on top of his stomach makes him shout into his mouth.

The Engineer pushes up quickly in alarm, but Sniper grabs him by the straps of his overalls. “No, don’t- crikey, don’t pull away. That was good, the pressure – do it again.”

The engineer grins and leans down again. He bends his elbows a little to let more of his weight settle on his lover’s stomach, the whole of his naturally wide stomach and waist pressing against the warm bulge in the sniper’s midsection.

Sniper groans loudly against his mouth as Engineer kisses him, one arm holding him up while the other settles on the side of his stomach, rubbing at the flesh he can reach while he licks away the last of the sugary syrupy taste from the Australian’s mouth.

The Sniper feels overwhelmed by Engineer’s body despite the hilariously out of proportion height difference between them. He spreads his legs wide and in his pleasure his boots lift right off the covers. His thighs tighten around Engie’s hips and he throws his head back when the shorter man grinds down against him.

“Were you thinkin’ you were gonna take me all the way?” Sniper pants, arching his back to crush against Engineer’s soft body even more. “Because if you were I think you should do it as quick as possible.”

"Gonna have to let me go then," the engineer laughs, pulling away, careful to keep his hand rubbing against the sniper’s stomach so he isn’t left with nothing. "We both need to get undressed and I can’t do that with your legs wrapped so tight around me."

Sniper grunts and untangles his ropey limbs from around the shorter man. He hurriedly kicks off his boots while Engineer trundles across the room and fishes through a tool box.

“You ain’t thinking you’re gonna lube me up with motor oil or somethin’ are you mate?” Sniper pitches himself up on his elbows to watch the Engineer rifle though his box. “Because I think I’d prefer spit if that’s the case.”

He’s very pleased to find that Engie has no such plans, and makes a note to ask later why the Engineer carries lube in his tool box. Sniper swings his legs over the edge of the bed and sits up with a little difficulty, puffing short breaths into crushed lungs. He beckons Engie over to him and pulls him close by his overall straps to kiss his neck.

Engie’s belt opens with a loud clunk as his heavy tools take it to the floor in nanoseconds. Sniper hooks his fingers into the clasps on his straps and flicks them open so he can pull it down. “I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for months,” he growls into Engie’s ear, kissing his stubbly scalp and dropping his overalls down to his ankles. Without hesitating, he sinks his fingers into Engineer’s soft belly, pushing up under his uniform shirt to feel hot, fuzzy skin and pillowy fat. He growls low and hooks his ankles around the back of Engineer’s knees to draw him in tighter and push their bellies together, Engie’s soft, Sniper’s hard.  

"Shoulda said somethin’." Dell huffs. He flicks open the bottle of lube and squeezes some into his human hand. He spreads it over his fingers before wedging it between their stomachs so he can prepare the sniper.

Sniper isn’t willing to give him much room to work with, too intoxicated by the feeling of their bodies pressed together. The short bed puts Sniper at the perfect height to be fucked, but he’s so anxiously grinding against Engineer that the poor man can hardly get a grip on him.

Impatient and a little frisky, Engineer grabs Sniper with the Gunslinger and the next thing the overwrought gunman knows, he’s flipped onto his belly on the edge of the bed. He gives a howl when pressure spikes up through his overstuffed stomach, but Engie’s fingers finally sliding all the way inside him gives him a counterpoint of bliss to rachet against the cramps.

He lays his cheek on the blanket and clings for dear life so he won’t slide off the bed backwards in pursuit of the Engineer’s short but thick fingers.

Engineer doesn’t waste time working Sniper open. He finger fucks him as deep as he can while stretching him wide enough to take a third finger. Sniper whines with every withdrawal of his fingers and bucks back a little, chasing them.

Soon Engie’s three fingers have the job done and he pulls them out, leaving Sniper wet and open and whining desperately to be filled. Always a gentleman Engineer hurriedly slicks himself up and grabs hold of the other man’s waist, pads of his fingers digging into the taut flesh of his belly as he presses slowly forward.

Sniper can’t make a sound. His mouth is open, drooling on the sheets, eyes blown wide and a little bit crossed, he can’t even draw a breath as Engineer fills him inch by inch. Shaking, he pushes up onto his elbows and hangs his head to take some of the intense pressure off his middle. His belly hangs down, round and heavy, and brushes the blankets under him.

“Oh, Christ,” Sniper pants, his stomach pressing a little tighter against the sheets with every inhale. His belly is shooting cramps through the rest of his body, tight and hot, and Engie’s cock is filling him even fuller. He drops his forehead to the blanket and rocks back on unsteady legs. “Come on, fuck me, fuck me,” he groans when Engineer digs his fingers even deeper into the sides of his aching belly.

Behind him the engineer chuckles and starts thrusting into him, his movements slow and shallow, meant as much to tease as to help the Sniper adjust to the feeling.

"You feelin’ good darlin’? Tell me how you feel don’t be shy," he encourages. "Tell me how you feel filled up to the brim with good food and my cock. Bet it feels nice huh?"

 If Sniper were honest, he’d say that he actually feels a little queasy. His gut is twisted up in knots, the swaying isn’t doing him any good. His head feels light and his body feels heavy, his legs are shaking and his stomach constantly pressing into the blankets makes a hot feeling well up in his throat.

But apart from that he feels so good he could cry. In fact he probably is crying a little bit. He rocks his hips, his stomach doing flips, and stuffs himself on Engie’s cock with every backstroke. He has to swallow down the itchy, shaky feeling of nausea. His mouth is filled suddenly with the biting, sour taste of just enough vomit to burn his throat and tongue, but he swallows it back down before his gag reflex can open the floodgates. Engineer prepared this meal for him, it would be awful rude to throw it up all over his bed.

When the wave has passed, Sniper pushes up on his hands to hopefully dull some of the queasy ache and lets Engie have carte blanche on the pace so he can rest the nausea pooling hotly in his gut.

“Good,” he finally responds when he’s taken a few settling breaths, and groans when Engineer’s hand wraps around him to rub circles into his heavy belly. “It’s good, fuck, so good. Never been this full before, never been fucked like this before.”

"You feel wonderful." Engineer assures him, picking up the pace a little. He doesn’t want to be too rough with Sniper yet. He wants him to get a little more settled before he really pounds him into the mattress. He’s considerate like that.  "And you look beautiful." he adds, rubbing the man’s belly for emphasis. "It’s too bad I can’t see too much of you from this angle."

“You’re the one what flipped me over, hardhat,” Sniper groans, rocking his body into the stimulation on his stomach, gritting his teeth when another cramp and dizzying wave of nausea spreads through him.

“You were being difficult to work with,” Engie scolds politely while striking a contrast with short, hard thrusts.

“We gonna argue about it or are you gonna flip me over and fuck me right?” Sniper barks.

He barely has time to finish his sentence before he’s thrown over onto his back. Instantly, with the weight taken off his arms and legs, his nausea subsides and he lets out a happy moan. And then when Engineer hikes a knee up onto the mattress for leverage and fucks right back into him, he can really lay back and enjoy it. The cramps feel like a distant memory as he gets nailed into the bed, pressure blooming from his backside and tingling over the tense skin of his belly.

Sniper is moaning and squirming, pressing back against Engineer’s thrusts to drive him deeper into his body. Engineer takes that as a sign that he can stop holding back.

He takes hold of the Sniper’s belly, hands spread out over the tight swollen flesh to hold him down and hold him still. Braced as he is, with his knee on the mattress and arms supported by his lover the Engineer let’s go of almost all restraint. His hips snap forward hard and fast, driving into the Sniper with almost all his strength.

Sniper’s shouts are loud and unrestrained, echoing off the concrete walls. Now he understands why Engie took him way down here away from everyone else. How Engineer knew he was a screamer, he has no clue.

He grabs hold of the Engineer’s wrists and bounces back on his cock, pleasure shooting up through his body in waves. His toes curl and his mouth hangs open. His whole body feels too big but too tight, his belly aching and cramping and heaving. He’s suddenly acutely aware of how close he is, his whole body drawing up tight for his impending release.

Engineer is close. Usually he can hold out longer than this but he hasn’t been with anyone in a while and Sniper looks too damn good. He was handsome before but now, full and round and flushed with pleasure, he’s absolutely beautiful. It’s the most arousing thing Dell can imagine.

There are tears on Sniper’s cheeks and with how loudly he’s shouting it’s impossible to miss how close he is to climax. Dell speeds up a little more, determined to drive the other man over the edge first. He wants to see him come. He wants to watch his face and see him splatter the taut skin of his belly with his release. He needs to see it, then he can give himself over to his own bliss.

Sniper, as it turns out, doesn’t need much coaxing. He releases Dell’s wrists only to reach over his own head to brace his hands against the wall on the other side of the cot and push his body to meet every forward thrust. The gesture only further elongates his body and makes his belly look even rounder and more out of place on his otherwise trim physique.

He only needs a few more scattered thrusts before he goes screaming over the edge, his entire pelvic floor fluttering in muscle contractions that leave him weak and pliant on the mattress.

If the sight of Sniper’s orgasm hadn’t been enough to send Engineer over the edge the way he tightens and spasms around his cock certainly does the job. Seconds after Sniper Engineer is coming, hips stuttering forward through waves of pleasure while Sniper’s aftershocks milk him for every last drop.

As the waves ebb Engineer sags forward, coming to his senses just in time to redirect his descent so he doesn’t fall directly on top of Sniper and his belly, but rather ends up a bit off to his side.

Sniper’s legs hang over the edge of the bed, his feet resting flat on the floor while Engineer’s don’t even come close. He drapes one arm lazily over Engineer’s shoulders, his other coming to rest on his aching stomach.

He can’t speak for a while. He’s completely robbed of the English language. He lies with his mouth open, eyes half-closed, sleepy and lazy in his bliss and eternally thankful that he didn’t throw up.

When he finally does speak, it’s nothing but a feeble request to stay the night, and he rolls over onto his side to face Engie. His belly is heavy on the covers, and the more time he spends lying down the more tired he gets. He doesn’t even situate himself long-ways on the bed, he just lets his legs hang off the edge of the cot while Engineer pulls a sheet backwards over him for modesty’s sake.

Sniper drifts off to sleep almost immediately. Engineer holds on to consciousness a little longer, watching the man sleep with a smile while he rubs the man’s belly in slow soothing circles.

At last sleep becomes too hard to deny and he starts to fall under its spell. The last thing he thinks before he falls asleep is that he needs to find a way to apologize for coming inside the other man without asking first.

Maybe he’ll send something over to his camper for dinner one night. He’s sure he’ll appreciate it.


	2. Spy

Engie doesn’t _regret_ what he did with Sniper. They’re still friends, and they can even look each other in the eye without any awkwardness. A couple weeks later and everything is still normal between them. (Even if Engie does furiously masturbate on occasion to the memories of Sniper engorged and flat on his back.)

It’s not that he _regrets_ what they did.

It’s just that now he can’t stop paying attention to the eating habits of the other mercenaries.

Like how Scout is always loudly complaining about how bad the food is in the mess hall, despite the fact that he usually eats it so quickly that he winds up with hiccups more days than not.

Or how Heavy generally doesn’t eat the entrée in the mess, preferring to use his salary to buy food elsewhere, and just nibbles at the fruits and desserts provided.

How Soldier never touches a single thing in the mess hall, but brings his dinner there to share in the company with the rest of the REDs, even if his dinner is nothing but a few canned foods and a fork.

Or how Spy eats like a goddamn rodent.

He’s never known anyone to eat less than Spy. Sniper seems like a big eater compared to that man. He eats like a swallow, pecking at food like it has personally offended his family. His eating habits only remind him of Snipers, which only reminds him of how thin Sniper is, which makes him start to think maybe Spy is that skinny too, and that just don’t sit right with him either.

Since Engie has started forcing more meals in Sniper’s direction when they’re sitting outside together, he’s put on a few pounds. Nothing terribly noticeable to anybody who doesn’t spend almost every day with the recluse, but it makes Engineer swell with pride to see his shirt bunch up around a slightly softer belly when he slouches by the campfire.

Spy, first of all, never slouches. But even if he did, Engineer is pretty damn sure there wouldn’t be an ounce of fat content on his body to see.

Spy is an observant man. Like Sniper it’s part of his job, though for totally different reasons. He sees everything and knows almost everything. He knows Engineer and Sniper slept together, though he doesn’t know the details. He doesn’t think Engineer knows he and Sniper also slept together but he can’t be sure. He’s starting to think he must know.

Why else would he be watching him so closely?

Spy noticed it a few weeks ago in the mess hall. Engineer had been watching everyone a bit more closely lately so at first he mostly ignored it. Nosy American was probably trying to find somewhere he could meddle where he wasn’t wanted. It seemed like nothing.

Then he noticed how focused the Engineer had become on him. Especially during meal times. Looking very unhappy.

As far as Spy was concerned there could only be one explanation.

The Engineer is _clearly_ trying to poison him.

So he starts eating even less. He doesn’t know _why_ Engineer is trying to poison him. They’re on the same side. The two of them hardly interact. He’s got to be more acquainted with the BLU spy by now than with himself. He doesn’t even have any incriminating information on the Engineer, unless he counts the fact that Spy knows he names each and every one of his sentries, but he would hope that’s hardly something to kill a man over.

But the less he eats in public, the more irate the Engineer looks, until he stops coming to the mess hall for meals altogether. He’ll stick to the emergency supplies in his hollow molars, thank you. No cranky American is going to poison him.

But this only seems to make the Engineer more determined. He starts seeking Spy out, asking him to join him for meals and offering to bring him something for later when he refuses. He goes out of his way to talk about food when they’re together. It’s unsettling.

Finally one day Spy can take it no longer. After a long day of stabbing BLU snipers in the back he’s worn out and in no mood for the Engineer’s games. So when the man asks if he’d like to join him for dinner, he snaps.

"I do not know what game you think you are playing." he says menacingly, brandishing his faithful knife. "But I am on to you. I ‘ave noticed ‘ow eager you are to get me to eat and I must tell you your plan ‘as been foiled. If you want to kill me you will ‘ave to do better than something as childish as poison! You are too obvious in your attempts and besides, I am immune to almost all poisons and venoms."

This strikes the Engineer as plumb odd.

“Poison you?” he drawls with a laugh. “Shoot, I ain’t tryin’ to poison you.”

Spy’s eyes narrow and his mouth scrunches up. “Then what on _Earth_ are you up to?” he asks, tight-lipped.

"You don’ eat much more than a guinea pig. It ain’t healthy for a grown man." Engineer explains. "I’m tryin’ to get you to eat like a real person. I can’t believe you haven’t collapsed under the weight of that mask with how little you ingest every day."

Spy recoils, his chin pulling in to his chest in shock. He squints at the smaller man, sizing him up and down. He _seems_ honest. Spy has been trained in 27 different methods of recognizing lies, from expression to tone to posture, and the Engineer is exhibiting none of them.

But it’s absurd! He leans in closer, trying to intimidate, to get the shorter man to crack under pressure and reveal his true motives. “You are lying,” he sneers.

“Boyscout’s honor,” Engie raises two fingers.

“And why would you care?” Spy stands up straight again with a deep frown. “We don’t even know one another.”

"We’re on the same team. You watch my back I watch yours right? If you pass out from hunger on the field that’s one less man to keep the guns pointed away from me." Engineer points out. It’s not really his reasoning but it’s an excuse he thinks Spy might accept. "And besides, I’m from Texas. I hate to see anyone go underfed."

Spy crosses his arms and gives the shorter man his shoulder. “I am not underfed. I ‘ave a carefully balanced diet of exactly 2,000 calories a day. Thank you for being such a dear friend, but I don’t even _like_ American food. Least of all that greasy, smothered-in-gravy, deep fried mess that comes from the south.”

That’s just insulting. Personally offensive and Engineer isn’t the sort to take that kind of thing sitting down. No one insults his country, the South or his favorite foods and gets away with it, least of all, all three.

"Is that so? You don’t like it or you can’t handle it?" he asks, arms crossed. "Poor little French boy can’t handle a real man’s meal."

“If _that_ is what you consider a ‘man’s meal’ then no, I would not be able to _‘andle it_. I would seize up and _die_ ‘alfway through from the carbs, calories and fat content. My arteries would clog and I would ‘ave a ‘eart attack in two minutes flat. You people from the South, you are so clogged up already that you are immune to it. I, ‘owever, eat wholesome meals and I am much ‘ealthier for it,” Spy snorts haughtily.

Engineer laughs. “Healthier? Is that what you call not being able to punch your way out of a paper bag? No wonder you gotta stab men in the back. If you’re scared of a little grease I can only imagine what a man with a gun must do to you.”

Spy’s face turns red underneath his mask. “I don’t ‘ave to worry about guns because I can _run away_ without going into _cardiac arrest!_ ”

"How can you run when you ain’t got no carbs or fats to burn?" Engineer challenges. "You don’t! You turn invisible and hide. Maybe Solly’s right about all you Frenchie’s bein’ cowards."

Spy’s shoulders hitch up and his face goes even redder. This is all over a meal? Stupid Americans and their stupid pride.

“Fine!” he barks. “If I can suffer through a single meal of your disgusting American food, then you must take that back and say that the French are superior.”

"Alright, now we’re talking," Engineer replies with a grin. "Tomorrow night, my place. I’ll fix you up a hearty Texan dinner. And you have to try everything. You don’t have to eat it all, but you have to try it and you have to eat enough to be called a full meal by my standards. Deal?"

Spy’s eyes are narrowed so tightly they’re almost closed.

“Deal,” his voice comes out slimy when he shakes the Texan’s hand.

===

Spy wishes he would have requested they go elsewhere, because the farther he descends to Engineer’s boiler-level lab, the tighter and more uncomfortable his suit becomes. Itchy and hot, his suit coat is already hooked over his shoulder on two fingers before he even hits the bottom step. His other hand is tucked into his trousers pocket, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

The first thing Spy notices about the food is the quantity. He blanches at the sight of biscuits swimming in gravy, buttery corn by the pounds, a thick steak, a bowl of mashed potatoes, a steaming cherry pie and a pot of coffee. When Engineer had said a full meal, he had assumed a meal for one man, not four.

With his coat off, Engineer has full view of his perfectly tailored dress shirt, which is so pressed and creaseless that the Engineer thinks he might be sewed into it every morning. If he even ate a _quarter_ of what was on the table, his buttons would start to pull.

Engineer is about to offer to take the Spy’s coat out of courtesy, when it’s unceremoniously thrust into his arms as the Spy comes through the door. He doesn’t say anything, just goes over to the table where Engineer has everything laid out, carefully scrutinizing every dish, bridge of his masked nose wrinkled in distaste.

"See anything you like?" Engineer asks coolly, setting the suit jacket aside on his cot. "We can start anywhere you want."

Spy doesn’t even want to sit down. He doesn’t want to be here. But his pride demands his presence. He never was good at walking away from a challenge. He’s not sure how eating this greasy food is going to prove to Engineer that he’s a “man’s man.” Something must have gotten lost in translation.

He screws his mouth up to one side and looks at everything on the table. The smells are almost overpowered by the stench of grease and oil in his workshop, but when Spy takes a seat, throwing an arm back over the chair gracefully and crossing his long, long legs, he’s closer to the food and the aromas.

With horror, he realizes, he _likes the way it smells_. It smells savory and well-cooked, salty and creamy and his toes curl in his shoes in frustration.

“I don’t care,” he waves his hand dismissively and starts to remove his gloves.

"Then I’ll make you up a plate. Just sit tight."  Engineer says, patting the man on the shoulder as he passes.

He starts piling a plate high with whatever is in reach, hoping the heat will cover up his excited flush. He’d started this as a way of helping a friend and maybe wounding the snob’s pride a little but the more he’d cooked and thought about how good it would be to see Spy eat his words the more he’d become excited at the thought of having him over. He wants to feed the man. He wants to feed him a little bit of everything and watch him fall in love with the food. He wants him to eat more and more and get filled up to the brim just like Sniper. He wants him full and round and blissed out. The thought of seeing him like that, belly pressing against his pressed shirt is incredibly arousing.

Maybe that’s a little strange. Maybe _he’s_ a little strange. He really doesn’t care as long as Spy eats.

Spy almost makes a noise when the Engineer cuts into the steak because of the amazing smell, so he quickly covers it with a cough and a snide remark.

“I am surprised you left the ‘ooves off that monstrous thing,” he crosses his legs in the other direction. The steak is massive, almost ridiculously so. “Any man who would eat that whole thing would die of an iron overdose.”

"This? This is the kid size." Engineer teases, putting some of the steak on the plate beside a mountain of corn, potatoes and warm buttered bread. The first plate filled he sets it down in front of the Frenchman. "Don’t tell me they ain’t got steak in France?"

“Of course we do,” Spy scoffs. “We ‘ave the best in the world. But we eat it in… tasteful portions. _That_ over there is downright grotesque.”

The coffee does smell very good when Engineer pours a cup for him, and lets him add his cream and sugar. Not a lot of either, it seems. It’s the first thing he’ll dare sample, taking a sip of the hot brew. His eyes instantly snap open.

“This is _not_ the coffee from the mess hall,”  he says, and quickly realizes he almost complimented the Texan in his taste, so covers sloppily with “It will do.”

He scowls when Engineer laughs, and busies himself with cutting the still overlarge portion of steak with his knife and fork into a manageable bite. The meat is just a little pink in the center, and _dripping_ with juices, topped with herbs and spices and he has to admit, it smells delicious.

What he doesn’t expect is the explosion of flavor on his tongue when he braves the bite. It’s just a little spicy, sharp on his palate, aromas curling into his nose and juices flowing down his throat with a single bite into the meat. It doesn’t take too long to chew, it falls to pieces in his mouth, and by the time he swallows he realizes he’s had his eyes closed in reverence. He opens them to a grinning Engineer and instantly scowls, flushing.

"You don’t have to say anythin’."  Engineer says, still grinning. "But there’s more right over there if you want it. But you gotta eat some of everything else first."

He’s glad he started with the steak. The steak is his pride and joy, his specialty, and if anything will have Spy coming back for seconds that’s it. Seconds and maybe thirds. Hopefully.

Spy is a silent eater. Not just in that he doesn’t talk, but he doesn’t make a sound. It’s almost eerie, the way he piles corn into a spoon and eats it without a sound, he doesn’t make a noise when he bites into the biscuit or chews the steak, not a single whisper leaves him when he savors the mashed potatoes.

Engie thinks maybe he’s fallen into some kind of wormhole where no sound escapes, because even with the whirring and hissing and clanging of the nearby boiler room’s machinery, Spy’s silence makes the whole world go quiet.

He wishes Spy would say something. Even if it’s just to insult him, he wishes he would say _something_. His silence is very unnerving.

Another thing Spy never does, it seems, is make a mess. He’s meticulous with his silverware, nothing like the somewhat messy and unashamed eating of Sniper. He doesn’t spill a drop or gravy, he doesn’t drop a single kernel of corn, he doesn’t miss a single rivulet of juice. It’s bizarre and almost mechanic.

The plate is cleared in a little under an hour. He’s not a terribly fast eater, but he is a neat one. The plate is almost spotless once he’s finished. To his shame, he realizes, he’s never tasted food like this in America. Every bite was heavenly, to the point where he ate maybe just a touch more than he really needed. He sneers down with disdain at his body and sees a very slight curve where once there was a perfectly flat plane of muscle. Damn Engineer, and damn his good cooking.

It’s impossible not to notice the swell of Spy’s stomach under the tightly fitted shirt. Were his suit not so well tailored Engineer might have missed it. But since it was practically painted on before, the way the shirt pulls a little across his newly formed paunch is impossible to miss.

And Engie _loves_ it. Anyone would love seeing Spy looking less than magazine-cover perfect in his suit but seeing the way his belly swells and just barely tests the buttons of his shirt and the way he shifts, a little uncomfortable with the new found tightness of his belt, brings the engineer a rush of mixed pride and arousal. He wants more. He wants to see those buttons bursting, he wants that belt off and those perfectly pressed pants shamelessly unbuttoned.

It didn’t take Spy’s brilliant powers of observation, reasoning and deduction to see the lust in the Engineer’s face while he looks at Spy. The taller man is used to being stared at like the sexual creature he is, but curious this, because Engineer wasn’t looking at him like this before he ate.

It clicks in less than a minute. Spy has encountered this before, in his travels. Feederism, it’s been loosely called. The sexual arousal or fulfillment from feeding, or being fed, sometimes in excess. Most sexual practices end in ‘philia’ the Greek word for love, matched with the Greek or Latin term for whatever the fetish can be boiled down to. Feederism doesn’t seem to have one of these names, possibly because it just didn’t exist back when these fetishes were being named.

Spy has never partaken, personally. He’s never been particularly interested, though he’d never be one for looking down on a person for their sexual practices. He himself has been known to indulge in a few strange ones. But he’s just never been appealed to this, personally. It seemed like not only a waste, but embarrassing.

However, it looks like the Engineer might be into it. He conducts a very simple test to try and find out for sure. He slouches, just a little bit. Slouches just far enough for his belly to push out against his buttons and really create a noticeable, if small, curve.

Engineer’s breath catches for a moment as the curve of Spy’s stomach presses a little more against his shirt, straining the buttons just a little farther. He isn’t nearly well enough fed to be as arousing as Sniper was but he already looks good enough to eat, so to speak. The Engineer imagines if he were to get Spy into bed right now his stomach would be soft and yielding under his fingers, perfect for biting on his way down to suck the man’s cock.

He gives himself a little mental shake. He can’t get distracted. Spy can get bigger, he knows it. He just has to be careful about how he goes about getting him to eat any more.

What he doesn’t expect is for the Spy to voluntarily ask for seconds.

Spy has him, hook line and sinker, he has all the confirmation he needs. First, though, he needs proof. In order for this information to work in his favor, he needs to have infallible proof. And for that, he has to get the Engineer incredibly aroused. And to have _that_ … well, he needs to eat in one sitting more than he ever has in his life.

Engineer almost falls over himself preparing another plate for the Spy, with everything on it, and refills his empty cup of coffee. Spy eyes the pie and makes a note to keep it in mind before he’s reached his absolute limit, because even if his objective now is to get proof of Engineer’s unconventional fetish, he won’t be caught up on a technicality of ‘not finishing the proper Texan meal.’

Spy doesn’t waste time digging in. He knows this has to happen, and he’s able to keep his shame under control if he thinks of this like a secret information retrieval mission. A secret mission that just requires him to eat a lot of really delicious food. He has to admit, he’s had worse missions than that.

Engineer watches avidly as Spy swallows mouthful after mouthful of juicy steak, buttery corn, savory gravy soaked biscuits and more. His lips are red and shiny, and Engineer wants desperately to lean over and kiss him and taste his own cooking on his tongue. He knows they must taste absolutely delicious because everything he cooks is perfect. But he doesn’t want to interrupt Spy’s eating.

The second plate is cleared a little quicker, but Spy’s waistline suffers. He felt more than full after the first plate, but if anybody is a master of pushing their body to the limit, it’s Spy. He’s never been a masochist exactly, but he’s undergone torture far worse than eating good food.

There’s plenty for a third helping even, but he’s not sure how far the human body can go before it ruptures. He’s always been a very slim man, he doesn’t have much room to expand, and his buttons aren’t exactly happy with him.

Rather than ruin a shirt by literally popping buttons off, Spy sits back a little bit and takes just a moment to observe. He’s never been in this sort of condition before. His sides ache and his ribs hurt, his lungs burn and his stomach is gurgling loudly, the only sound coming out of him, fighting to digest a meal the likes (and quantity) of which Spy has never eaten before.

His buttons are very, very tight. They’re pulling apart ever so slightly, and where skin would be showing instead reveals a plain cotton undershirt. It’s a little shameful, yes, but he’s had worse. And if the Engineer dares to make a comment, he’ll only have to point out the tightening of his overalls.

Smoothing a hand over his taut belly, Spy regards the pie, and then the food laid out in front of him still. He could probably finish it all and a slice of pie. It’d be pushing it, but if for nothing else than to learn the absolute limit of his own body (information which could prove very useful one day) he asks Engineer to give him the rest.

Engineer barely manages a simple yes in response. He happily loads up another plate with what’s left of the feast he’d prepared and hands it over to Spy, his hands shaking a little in his excitement. Spy’s buttons look ready to pop, like something out of a cartoon. And boy wouldn’t that be something if he could actually manage it? He’s almost sure it’s impossible but he can’t help imagining Spy eating so much his shirt can’t take the strain. There’s so much more suspense to it than with Sniper who by this point was more than half undressed.

Spy is methodical this time. He doesn’t have much room to spare, so he has to be strategic. Mashed potatoes are easy to get down, but they create a lot of filler that makes his stomach ache faster. The corn is light and simple to eat, the meat is heavy but the chewing gives him a break when he needs it. The biscuits are thick and creamy and he finishes off those last with his knife and fork. Every bite fills him more, even mouthful rounds him out farther, every swallow makes his stomach feel heavier. He hears the buttons creak a little bit, so he takes a break and sits back.

The only dignity Spy has when he undoes the top few buttons of his shirt to release pressure is his undershirt, and he continues all the way down to the last button above his belt. He leaves his shirt tucked in, but lets it spread around his girth to frame his tight, unyielding stomach.

He pauses for a moment to rub at his round belly, forcing down a wince so he won’t let on just how uncomfortable he is. He can hear Engineer panting lightly a few feet away, he can see him fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, rubbing his thighs together stealthily to try and apply some friction to his tenting prick.

Without an ounce of fat on his form, his tight body is having a hard time of this meal. His back is bowed to compensate for the extreme curve of his stomach, rounding several inches past where it should be. He’s so past ashamed at this point that it doesn’t even matter anymore when he finishes the last bite of meat with mashed potato piled on top.

He drains his mug of coffee and chances a half-lidded stare at the Engineer, but he’s in flux with lust, in such a daze, that he doesn’t seem to notice he’s being watched.

Engineer doesn’t know what to say. He feels like he should say something. Should tell Spy how amazing he looks, how desperately he wants to take him to bed. But he doesn’t know how to voice any of what he’s feeling without completely humiliating himself.

He’s hard though. And he doubts Spy hasn’t noticed. Spy notices everything. He just hasn’t said anything because he’s a horrible man who likes to watch people suffer. But he has to know by now what Engineer wants.

Wordlessly, Spy indicates the pie. He’s sure at this point that he couldn’t fit any more than one slice of pie in the very last nooks available in his body, but one slice is all he needs to finish this meal and officially win their little bet.

But damn him, Engineer cuts a heaping slice for him. Probably because he knows by now that Spy’s ego demands that he finish it. As frustrating the American is, Spy has to admit he’s the smartest man on their team, followed by Heavy if you can get past the language barrier.

The pie is exquisite. Spy has never been a huge fan of pies, finding them too thick and sweet, but Engineer must have used fresh cherries in this pie because the fruit filling is tart and delicious, waking up Spy’s palate after the heavy, savory meal he just had.

He can’t help but let out a moan. Partially because the cramping in his stomach has gotten incredibly intense with every bite that he forces down into it, but partially because the pie is just really, really good. He covers up his blunder by extending the sound into something intentional, and looks over at the Engineer with his steamiest ‘come hither’ eyes that has the Texan almost wobbling over on a trail of floating hearts.

“I could really use a ‘elping ‘and,” he indicates his growling stomach expectantly as he sucks a little filling from the tines of his fork. His entire mouth has been dyed deep, deep red from the cherries.

Engineer almost growls as he moves closer to Spy, eager to get his hands on the man. He’s nervous that he might be misreading the situation, something he hadn’t even considered with Sniper, or that Spy might only be taunting him, but he doesn’t really care. He places one large hand on the man’s belly and rubs like he did for Sniper when his stomach had protested being to filled. He leans a little closer, almost close enough to kiss the Spy. Close enough that he can smell and practically taste the cherry pie on his lips.

"What’d you have in mind exactly?"  he asks, his voice as low and husky and sexy as he can possibly make it.

Blood shoots south at the feeling of the engineer’s broad, warm palm on his stomach. He groans and tips his head back, bathing under the musk of Engineer’s voice. “Well considering you are the one who has put me in such a state,” his voice leaves him like velvet strings, curling around the Texan’s body and floating into his ears, slithering down into his guts. “The least, I think, you can do is take me to the bed and feed me the rest.”

"I’d be more than happy to do that for you darlin’."  Engineer says.

He stands and considers how best to get Spy across the small space to the bed. The man could probably walk but he won’t want to. Carrying him would be best.

He silently gives thanks to all the hours he’s spent lugging his toolbox and spare parts all over the battlefield for giving him the strength he needs to lift Spy out of his chair and carry him over to the bed. He sets him down gently before going back for what’s let of the man’s pie. If he wants to be fed that’s damn well what he’s going to get.

He takes the man’s fork and feeds him a bite. He doesn’t rush him to finish but let’s him savor the taste and swallow before leaning in to kiss him and lick away the syrup on his lips.

Spy hadn’t honestly expected the kiss. He hadn’t exactly hoped for it, either. But he’s not going to complain. Any pleasure is welcome at this point, to counteract the growing pain of his stomach.

Every bite he swallows sends a cramp shooting through him. He’s lying flat on his back, and he can see just how much damage he’s done to himself. His belly is round and very firm, without a millimeter of give, rising and falling with his breaths, at least five inches farther than normal.

Engineer’s organic hand rubs at his belly while his gloved robotic limb feeds Spy the last few remaining bites. They disappear down into his cramped stomach and at last, Spy can relax. He really relaxes against the covers of Engineer’s bed and starts to wrestle with his shirt, pulling it out from his belt and tossing it up past the pillow and right over the edge of the bed. He has to arch his hips a bit in order to tug the leather of his belt free and open, and he can’t stop the loud moan that leaves him when the most persistent pressure leaves his lower belly.

Engineer watches him struggle for a moment before taking pity on the Spy. Once the belt is gone he takes over, unbuttoning the man’s fancy suit pants to relieve some more of the pressure. Apparently he’s done the right thing if Spy’s grateful moan is anything to go by.

Then he takes a moment to just the scene before him. Spy, lying on his back on his bed, pants undone, shirt a wrinkled mess on the floor, what little of his skin that can be seen under the mask flushed. And best of all his full round stomach rising up from his narrow hips and waist. It’s almost obscene, seeing him like this, but Engineer can’t tear his eyes away. He wants to touch, rub and kiss that beautiful belly before fucking the man fast and hard like he did to Sniper only a few weeks earlier.

“You’re aroused,” Spy doesn’t even need to say it, really. He grabs a fistful of the Engineer’s overalls and drags him down close enough that he can pull his goggles off his face and drop them to the floor. He kicks his shoes off while kissing the Texan’s ear. “Make love to me.”

This time Engineer does growl. He pulls out of Spy’s grip to get out of his clothes, moving so fast he almost tears his overalls in his haste. Once naked he sets about removing the last of Spy’s clothing until they’re both completely bare.

He takes a moment then to lean down and kiss and caress the Spy’s beautiful stomach before he begins searching through his toolbox for lubricant.

When the Engineer opens the lube and almost spreads it on his fingers, Spy grabs him by the shoulder and drags him closer, so that he has to grab hold of the bed to keep from falling over.

“Not so fast,” he draws Engie down by his chin and kisses his way up his stubbled jaw. “I want you to _ride me_ , mon petit amant.”

"Oh. Oh man I ain’t done that in a long time," Engineer says, blushing furiously. "But if you’re sure that’s what you want I’m just gonna need some time to get myself ready."

“Don’t go anywhere,” Spy keeps the flushed Texan from retreating with a firm hand on the back of his neck. “Sit on top of me while you do, I want to watch you.”

"Fu- I mean alright. Yeah I can do that." Dell says, almost panting with arousal.

Straddling Spy’s thighs, he spreads the lubricant on his fingers and hesitantly reaches behind himself. He hasn’t been touched like this, by himself or anyone else, in years. At first the intrusion of his own slick finger feels strange. It’s not sexy or particularly pleasant until he remembers Spy watching him. Spy wants this and if he’s looking for a show he’s gonna get it.

The engineer is up on his knees on top of Spy, one hand holding on to the headboard of the bed to hold him steady while he leans forward to give himself plenty of room to finger himself open for Spy. This position allows him not only to look Spy in the eye while he pants and moans every time he crooks his fingers but it presses their stomachs together, putting pressure on Spy’s tight belly.

The pressure makes Spy grit his teeth and he pushes at the Texan’s chest to try and get him to let up, but he’s an immovable wall of muscle beneath that deceptive, cushioning layer of fat.

When Engineer finally sits back to take Spy inside him, the pleasure of sinking inside the tight, shivering American is barely consequential next to the wave of bliss that rocks him when the agonizing pressure left his cramped, swollen stomach.

He started this for the sake of gathering information, he has to keep himself together. He can’t just fall apart into a helpless mess under the friction, he’s got a mission –

Wait.

He fills his hands with the Engineer’s skin, his fingers sinking into ample fat and muscle, tucking his knuckles under the soft love handles at the Texan’s hips and he rolls up into him.

“I succeeded, ‘aven’t I?” Spy asks throatily when the Engineer starts to gently lift himself up and drop back down. He lets out a tight groan that barely slipped past his defenses and swallows hard. “We ‘ad a deal.”

"What?" Engineer asks, completely lost. It’s been so long since he’s let someone inside him that he’s almost completely lost to the sensation of being filled. It hurts a little, but the pleasure of taking him completely inside himself easily overpowers the pain.

Spy’s words eventually penetrate the haze of lust that’s clouded his mind and he almost laughs. “Yeah, yeah we had a deal. You’re definitely no coward, no sir.” he teases, tightening up for a moment just to make Spy gasp. “You’ve bested me alright.”

Spy can’t even gloat in his victory, he’s too taken by the warring sensations of pain from his overstuffed stomach and pleasure from being so tightly taken. He can only hold onto Engie’s hips for dear life as he starts to bounce with more energy and passion.

As the pain of the stretch melts into blissful fullness, the Engineer’s safeguards crumble around him and he can really enjoy it.

The Spy can hardly even breathe. Even if he wasn’t so stuffed he could hardly inhale, the sight of the Engineer awash with pleasure - eyes closed and mouth open, eyebrows drawn together and cheeks pink - would have taken his breath away. He can’t thrust for the life of him, his cramps are too intense, so all he can do is lie there and take everything the Texan has to give him.

Engineer keeps his mechanical hand on the mattress, leaning forward to hold himself up. The other he spreads over Spy’s belly, rubbing as gently as he can while he bounces on the Frenchman’s cock. He couldn’t keep his hands off the tight flesh even if he tried but he’s seen how Spy reacts to too much pressure. A gentle touch is enough to get him through, as long as he can still touch.

Unsurprisingly, the more pleasure Engineer wreaks on the overwrought and overfed Spy, the farther he slips into his first language.

“Oh, oui, oui, mon cher, mon ingénieur doux, oui!”

“Oh mon Dieu, tu es exquise, oui, ne vous arrêtez pas.”

“Oh putain! Oui, oh mon dieu, mon dieu, trop bon, je suis proche!”

Usually priding himself on the lengths to which he can go in the bedroom, Spy already finds himself on the verge of the edge. His nerve endings are already feeding so much information into the pleasure cortex of his brain, he can hardly stand to be ridden like this, it feels so good it almost hurts.

Engineer wants more. It’s been a while since he’s let someone else top but he can’t remember why. Being taken like this is amazing, how could he have ever given it up?

He moves faster, wanting more friction, more speed, more depth. He’s close, very close already and edging towards desperate.

The concrete room is filled with both men’s voices as they come almost simultaneously, just seconds apart. Engie’s come drips all over the Spy’s full belly, speckling his pale skin with barely whiter droplets. Spy stammered out a last-second request to come inside, but even if the Texan had asked him not to he’s not sure he would have been able to stop long enough to pull out.

When Engineer wavers and wobbles on top of him, he quickly dumps him onto his side so he won’t land on top of him when he collapses in a heap.

“I am not going anywhere tonight,” the Spy declares after a few moments of comfortable, sleepy silence. “I am not walking through this base looking like this. I ‘ope you don’t mind company, or light sleepers.”

"No that’s alright." Engineer laughs. He rolls onto his side and drapes and arm over the Spy, above the swell of his stomach. "I prefer when my lovers spend the night anyway. Even if it’s just the one time."

“If you try to take my mask off, I will stab you without ‘esitation,” is the last thing the Spy says before he closes his eyes, comfortable in his nakedness.

===

Spy woke up when Engineer got out of bed in the morning, but he decided to go back to sleep for a little while. He never fell back into a full REM cycle, the Texan was making too much noise cleaning up and working, but he did manage to doze a few times for a few minutes.

He finally rolls over to face the Texan, the only sheet on his bed tangled up around his body, and he pillows his head on his arms.

“I won our bet,” he says in lieu of good morning. Now that he’s feeling more in his right head, he’s getting out the gloating he couldn’t last night. “And _you_ are a feeder. I did not know that.”

"I suppose you could say that. It’s not somethin’ I brag about." Engineer says with a shrug. "What are you goin’ to do about it? You can’t exactly blackmail me with it. I don’t care too much if people know or not."

“I did not say I was going to blackmail you,” the Spy sits up on the edge of the bed. “I was just – oh, mon dieu!”

He’s staring down at his body in abject horror. Engineer’s eyes drift from the man’s horrified expression to where his gaze is fixated, his stomach. Which looks, by all accounts, completely flat and normal.

“You alright over there, éclair?” he can’t help but smile at the terror in the man’s eyes at his completely unscathed body.

“No, I am not alright!” Spy pinches the smallest roll of fat Engie has ever seen in his life, curling at the very base of his stomach. “Look what you ‘ave done to me!”

"Oh don’t get bent out of shape over it. It’ll be gone in a day or two when you go back to eating like a squirrel." Engineer assures him, trying hard not to laugh. "You’re goin’ to be back to normal in no time."

“I knew I should not ‘ave trusted you!” Spy rants as he jumps out of bed and starts to tug his clothes back on. “I bet I ‘ave shaved ten years off of my life with that one meal alone! My great-grandchildren are going to be born with heart disease thanks to you! I ‘ope you’re ‘appy because I am going to ‘aunt you when I die of a _massive ‘eart attack!_ ”

He rushes out of the Engineer’s basement lab, ranting all the way, his shoes untied and his coat dragging on the floor behind him.

Engineer sits there in stunned silence for a moment, completely shocked. Then he starts to chuckle. And none too slowly the chuckle grows into a roaring laugh that he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole base could hear. He doesn’t stop laughing for most of the day.


	3. Scout

In retrospect, maybe Engie shouldn’t have done that with Spy.

It’s not that he regrets it exactly.

His fantasies are double now. He imagines feeding Sniper and Spy at the same time, watching their bellies grow, watching them compete to get bigger and then watching them make love with pained expressions. Engineer has never masturbated so much in his life; it wasn’t even this bad when he was a teenager.

He doesn’t _regret_ it.

He just wishes he could stop imagining what every single mercenary would look like with a big, swollen tummy. He can hardly look any of his co-workers in the eye anymore without envisioning what they might be like so full they can hardly breathe. Who would be cranky? Who would love the feeling? Who would demand caresses and who would be so ashamed he would curl in on himself and try to hide it?

It was one thing to partake with Sniper. He figured it would end there. But the fact that he got lucky with _two_ different mercenaries makes him think he could maybe get lucky again. It’s a nice dream, but he highly doubts it. What are the odds he’d find _another_ person willing to let him feed them?

He thinks it’s just a pipe dream. Something to make his bed feel a little warmer at night when he’s in his tent beside Sniper’s camper. (He doesn’t need any help making the boiler room bed warmer, thank you.)

But maybe that’s why he started paying attention to Scout’s loud complaining about the mess hall food. Complaining about the piss-poor quality, the lack of seconds, the small portions.

“How’s a man s’posed ta built any muscle mass with this kinda food!” he’ll shout, pointing at unidentifiable meat porridge or a messy and downright dubious chicken sandwich. The poor workers in the mess hall wearing miserable shades of grey have been on the receiving end of his rants on more than one occasion. Usually, Engineer just drowns him out for being a rowdy, obnoxious kid.

But, then again, he sort of has a point. The kid’s a runner. He burns more calories than the rest of them in a day, possibly even combined. But the food system is apparently communist rather than capitalist, because everyone gets the same. Any extra food has to be bought with the mercenary’s personal money.

But seeing as Scout sends home almost all his money to his suffering mother (he often and very loudly uses this to garner sympathy points from girls he tries to flirt with off-base, everyone knows by now) he never has any extra money to buy food. Which leaves him with nothing but sugary energy drinks to compensate for the lack of energy that he should be building with hearty, muscle-building meals. And the all-sugar diet leaves him a little on the skinny side.

By which is meant, he’s the skinniest member of the RED team.

Engineer doesn’t spend a lot of time with Scout. He’s more of a stationary type, happy to sit and tinker or play his guitar or just read some of his mechanic magazines. Scout on the other hand is a ball of energy, no doubt thanks to those energy drinks he lives off of. He can’t sit still for more than a few minutes unless it’s meal time. So it’s not often they spend time together.

He manages to pin the boy down one day after dinner, cornering him in one of the many gyms in the base meant to help keep the mercs in shape and rehabilitate anyone who might need physical therapy after a nasty injury. The kid is running laps around the small room, apparently too riled up to hit the showers and hang out in a rec room like everyone else.

"You got a minute?" he asks, stopping the boy in his tracks. "Noticed you’ve been doin’ an awful lot of complainin’ lately. Thought I’d see if I could lend a hand."

Scout’s sneakers screech when he stops on a dime, almost crashing into the shorter man. He looks from side to side to check if the Engineer was talking to anybody else, but anybody else who was there before already left the room.

“Complaining?” he puts his hands on his hips, panting a little. “About what? I complain about a lotta stuff. Is this about the shower thing cause I mean I ain’t following you to no private shower or nothin’ my ma told me all about those kinda offers and she said they ain’t – ”

"I ain’t offering to take you to the showers!" Engineer says, cutting him off. "Nothin’ like that at all. Keep your pants on," for now, he thinks to himself. He has no plans to sleep with the kid but there’s a fair chance of there being some nudity involved.

"I’m talkin’ about the food in the mess hall. We all hate it but you’ve been awful loud about it for weeks now." he clarifies.

“Ohh, yeah, that stuff is rank,” Scout’s bucktooth grin back in place, he sits down on a weight bench and spreads his legs comfortably. “You gonna like take over the kitchen or something? I bet you could build all sorts of crazy stuff that could cook way better than they do. I don’t think they even TRY!”

"Naw. I got more important things to build than replacement cooks,"  Engineer laughs. "But I was gonna sneak into the kitchen and fix myself a snack before hittin’ the hay. Since you barely touched your dinner I thought you might wanna come along."

Scout’s grin monopolizes his face. “Hell yeah!” he bounces up off the bench. “Aw man, this whole time I thought you were like this dorky little shut-in, you’re way cooler than I thought you were!” he punches Engineer on the shoulder.

"Little?" Engineer barks, trying not to laugh. "I’ve seen chopsticks bigger than you! You might be a hair taller than I am but I’ve got enough meat on my bones to make me the bigger man."

Scout blows a raspberry. “Man, whatever. So when are we doin’ this thing cause I’m starving already!”

===

“See… when you said _snack_ … I assumed you meant like. Toast.” Scout leans in the doorway of the darkened kitchen.

Scout carefully closes and locks the kitchen door behind them and ventures towards the only light on, hanging over the center counter. It’s close to two in the morning and all of the windows are closed down, but it’s still safer not to risk getting caught with all the lights on. Of course if the light doesn’t give them away the freaking smells will. The island counter is _piled_ with food.

Several burgers with fries, lemonade and baked beans, barbeque ribs and smoked sausage, hush puppies and a big heaping chocolate pie. Scout’s so excited he could start shaking. The only time he ever sees this much food in one place is when his whole family is getting together, and that much food never really does manage to feed seven grown men, their mother, and any friends or girlfriends they might bring home with them.

“Didja invite the whole team to this thing or what?” he laughs hitching himself up on a free corner of the counter and swinging his feet.

"I’m a big man," Engineer answers with a shrug. "Big men like me eat a lot. And you’re a growin’ boy ain’t ya? You can eat as much as you want for once. And take the leftovers home with you."

“Oh, shit yeah!” Scout toes off his shoes so he can sit cross-legged on the counter. “This shit ain’t from the kitchen though, if they were serving this kinda stuff there’d be no reason to complain. So where’d you get this stuff? And when did you find the time to cook it!”

 Engineer smiles and hands Scout an empty plate so he can serve himself. Normally he’d serve his guest but this isn’t a fancy dinner and he isn’t playing host. Tonight they’re partners in crime and Scout can serve himself until he’s too big to move anymore.

"I like to cook. I keep a lot of food in my room that’s all." he answers, "Go ahead, try a bit of everything."

“Don’t gotta tell me twice!” Scout grabs one of the burgers and a handful of fries, nodding his thank you when the Engineer pours some ketchup beside his fries, because his mouth is already full of burger.

For some reason, Engineer thought maybe if he had genuinely _good_ food to eat, he might slow down a little. That was stupid of him, though. He’s never seen a man eat a burger that fast since the burger eating contest in his home down when he was still a college freshman. He was barely half done with his own by the time Scout finished off the last bite of his, and was humming in happiness through the fries.

“Jeez, guy, where’d you learn to cook like this?” Scout compliments, grinning when he bends a fry in half and it gives a very pleasing crackle. “This is like pro. If the whole engineering thing don’t work out for ya, you got a promisin’ future as a chef!”

"I’ll take that as a compliment on my cookin’ skills rather than a judgement of my engineerin’ career." Engineer says thankfully. "But you might want to consider slowin’ down. You’re gonna make yourself sick if you keep inhalin’ the food like that."

“Nah, I’m fine,” Scout sips a tall, cold glass of lemonade. “I always – hic! Fuck.”

Engineer laughs as Scout puffs out his cheeks, holding his breath to try and stop his hiccups. Scout makes a face at him and lets out his breath, only to hiccup again and start over.

While he’s holding his breath, he grabs for a rack of slippery ribs and spears a few fat sausages into a second burger, double-stuffing it with meat. The next time he exhales, his hiccups seem to be gone for now, so he digs right in again.

Engineer notices that despite how crass the boy is, he’s a rather neat eater. He’s nothing like Spy was (it feels somehow naughty to compare the way the mercs eat) he drops things occasionally and he isn’t bizarrely silent like Spy was, but he doesn’t eat like the wild animal Engie expected he would.

It must come from living in a house with a strict mother. He’s had manners wooden-spooned into him, elbows off the table, don’t slurp your soup, dear. He uses his napkin liberally and doesn’t talk with his mouth full, he waits until he swallows to compliment the Engineer’s cooking.

The ribs are really easy to eat, the meat falls off the bone and Scout barely has to chew it before it slides down smooth. He might not talk with his mouth full, but he sure does make a lot of noise. Mostly just happy little moans and groans and hums of approval.

Engineer loves watching Scout eat. He’d loved watching Spy and Sniper too but Scout is so much more enthusiatic. He doesn’t pretend he’s full to be polite or refuse a second helping because he doesn’t want to impose. He eats fast and heartily but takes time to appreciate the taste and texture that Engie spent so long perfecting. Seeing him take plateful after plateful without prompting is wonderfully satisfying.

As is the small belly he can see starting to round out under Scout’s shirt. It’s nothing yet, barely a bump that can happen to anyone after a big meal. But Scout is showing no sign of slowing down yet and Engineer just knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s sporting a beautifully full, round belly.

“What are these things?” Scout laughs as he holds up a hush puppy between two fingers.

“Oh, they’re like fried dough, they got – ”

“Good enough for me,” Scout pops the little ball of dough in his mouth, and his eyes blow wide. “Whoa- ” he covers his mouth with a hand and chews hastily so he can get it down. “Okay if you can just go ahead and make me a hundred a those a night and I’ll be good for like the rest of my life!”

They’re only about the size of a golf ball, but Engie knows how they can add up and be incredibly filling so it almost makes him nervous when Scout starts eating them like candy. If he fills up too much too fast on dough, he might not eat the rest of the food Engie prepared for him.

“Leave room for dessert,” he laughs after the kid has eaten what might have been his twentieth.

“Don’t worry man I got room,” Scout grins and pats his stomach for emphasis, but he sucks in a breath and sits up straight when he feels his body curved under his palm. With his back straight, his stomach pushes against his shirt and he laughs at the sight. The tucked-in cloth really emphasizes the roundness of his big meal. “Whoa, I’ve never had this much food to myself before this is freaking awesome. Maybe I should stop though I mean… ” he doesn’t really have a reason _why_ , maybe because his mother’s voice in the back of his head barks ‘little piggy!’ and he’s afraid Engineer will scold him, too.

"What for? There’s more than enough and I got plenty more I can make back in my room. You ain’t eatin’ me out of house and home son, go ahead and eat," Engineer encourages, pushing the plate of ribs that Scout had sampled earlier a little closer to the boy. He hopes he doesn’t sound too eager. He wants to see Scout eat, not scare him off. If he starts thinking something’s up he’s going to be off faster than a jackrabbit and Engie will never get his hands on him again.

Scout grins. That’s all the prompting he needs.

He finishes off another rack of ribs without much of a problem, drains a glass of lemonade and piles more sausage onto a third burger. Realizing he hasn’t touched the baked beans, he also spoons a generous helping onto the plate.

They start talking between bites while they eat, Engineer considerably slower than Scout. He wasn’t extremely hungry to begin with, but he’s pretty much always in the mood to eat. He just doesn’t want to eat too much so to leave Scout with the pick of whatever he wants.

He’s finally really started to slow down again after he finishes off the burger and he gives a ‘whoof’ as he sucks in his growing belly as much as he can so he can undo his belt and fly. When he relaxes his muscles, he gives out an indulgent groan and leans back on one hand to rub the very bottom of his stomach, where his belt had been cutting into him.

“Man your food is like the freaking best,” he comments lazily while his stomach works to digest his meal, gurgling loudly. “You should like, do weekly cookouts for everyone. Your ass would be _so_ covered in the field if you start feeding everyone. They’d _all_ wanna keep you alive.”

"Would there be anythin’ left after you got done?" Engineer teases. "You ain’t done yet are ya? Because I’ve got more dessert over there that you ain’t even touched yet. Try the pie to start, it’s a personal favorite. My mother’s recipe, god rest her soul, and she was the best cook in Texas."

“I got room,” Scout drums his fingers unashamedly on his belly. He cranes his neck to see a counter off in the shadow where Engie had put extra desserts. “Aw man, sneaky, putting ‘em over there. Man I got such a sweet tooth you don’t even know.”

He cuts a big slice out of the pie and separates a big bite with his fork. He’s never had chocolate pudding pie before, but he’ll eat anything if you smother it with whipped cream. He moans out loud with the first bite, and after that no force in the world could have stopped him from finishing that slice. It’s decadent but whipped, so it’s light, and doesn’t take much room in his cramped stomach. Two slices turns into three that finally has him taking shorter breaths and nursing stomach cramps that come from his second bout of hiccups.

He burps as much as he can to make room when Engie hands him a giant steaming bowl of warm peach cobbler. He’s never had that before, either, and he finds that he’s a big fan. He’s never been a huge fruit eater, but the thick syrup and crumbly crust go down nice and create an even heavier, more solid weight in his middle. He’s never been full like this before, and the stretched skin pulling at his ribs and crushing into his ribs and settling into his lap feels _good_.

Every bite settles deep into his belly, pushing ever tighter against his shirt, until he finally decides to hell with it. Engie hasn’t made fun of him yet so he figures he won’t when he tugs his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor with his hat.

He looks down at his body with interest. The curve starts directly under his ribcage and juts out almost horizontally, huge and round. He rubs his hand across it with a sort of crooked smile. It’s incredibly satisfying, having this kind of weight, even if scattered hiccups still send spikes of discomfort through him.

“This is freakin’ incredible,” he groans, letting his head hang back while he rubs little circles into the center of his swollen tummy. He closes his eyes contentedly and contemplates trying to eat more. He’d probably cross the threshold soon between comfortably overfull and painfully stuffed if he did, but he kind of wants to. He’s always been a fan of pushing his body to the limit, whether that means shotgunning five energy drinks until he starts seeing _through_ people, or running until his legs actually give out. This is just another fun, daredevil feat. “What else you got?” he grins lazily at the older man, his fingers spread on the bottommost curve of his stomach, where it takes a sharp dip behind his open fly.

"How about some soup? Nice and hot, you’ll love it." Engineer says, going over to the stove where he’s got a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup warmed and ready. It’s more of stew really, considering how full of vegetables, chicken and noodles it is but he doubts Scout will get technical with him. He fills a bowl and brings it over to the hiccupping young man holding his beautifully rounded out stomach.

"I got a fix for hiccups too if you’d like." he offers. "Learned it as a boy when I almost took my dad’s hand off with a saw because I was hiccuppin’ so bad. It’ll fix you right up."

“You aren’t gonna like scare me – hic! – or anything are ya cause I warn you, I – hic! – throw up pretty easy and if you go startling me – hic! – I might just spew everywhere,” Scout clutches the bowl in the spare space in his lap.

"Nothin’ like that." the engineer chuckles. He gets up again and comes back with a spoon heaping with plain white sugar. "You said you got a sweet tooth right? Well this is plenty sweet and guaranteed to cure those hiccups right off. Go on, open up."

Scout swallows down the crunchy sugar and narrows his eyes in concentration for a few seconds, and grins when no more hiccups come. “Aw man, that is awesome! I’m gonna start stashing some sugar in my bag when I’m out on the field cause I get hiccups so freakin’ often.”

He starts in on the soup despite the loud protests of his stomach, swallowing down soft veggies and noodles without a problem, he doesn’t even really need to chew. The sensation of his throat spreading around the thick cut veggies makes him squirm a little bit it feels so unreasonably good. All of the fixings in the broth add another inch or so to his waistline, but most of the golden broth is still in the bowl.

“Betcha I could chug this,” he grins at Engie.

"I bet you could." Engie agrees, eager to keep the boy going. He’d agree to almost anything right now if it’ll keep Scout eating. "Want me to time you?"

“Hell yeah! Time me! I once chugged a whole Bonk! in like four seconds though, I’m pretty quick. Always used to beat my brothers in contests for a few bucks,” Scout lifts the bowl into position while Engie looks at the clock on the wall, and they both wait until it hits the top mark and he tips the bowl to start.

It’s a curious combination of problems he’s facing as soon as he starts. He’s always been a quick chugger, but that’s usually on an empty stomach. His belly is so packed already that it aches already with only a few big mouthfuls. He’s gulping down a lot of air with it, but he’ll expel that all once he’s done.

But apart from the problem of his stuffed gut, he’s used to chugging things with carbonation, which makes the broth a lot easier to get down. It fills him out, taking up his free spaces, soaking into his bones and making him feel warm and happy. His belly shakes a little bit with his quick breaths through his nose, and his Adam’s apple bobs with every deep suck from the bowl. His belly presses outwards with every swallow, shooting cramps through his body, but he won’t stop yet.

He finally slams down the bowl on the metal counter, twelve seconds into the minute, and the first thing he does is let out all the air he swallowed in one giant burp.

Engineer grins. “Sounds like you liked it. You doing alright there son? You’re looking about ready to burst.”

He looks amazing. He looks like the others did, full and round and red around the cheeks. But he looks so much more content and proud than they did. He’s rubbing at his own belly like it’s some kind of achievement and seeing him so happy with his own fullness only makes Engineer more aroused.

Scout unfolds his legs to hang one of them off the edge of the counter, the foot of the other leg still tucked under his knee. He leans back on one hand with a moan and pats his belly with a content smile. “I’ve _never_ gotten to eat like this,” he groans, before finally giving up on sitting up and just lies down across the free space on the counter. He dangles his knees off the edge with a sigh and rubs both his palms down the stretched skin.

He bites his lower lip in slight discomfort when all of the weird blood flow of his new body addition starts to fill his nethers. He rubs his thighs together with a groan, trying to relieve some of the pressure, his hands cupping the lowest part of his belly.

Turning his head, he sees a tray of cupcakes. He looks back to his stomach, and then back at the cupcakes, biting his lip.

"If you want more, you just have to ask." Engineer says. He brings the tray of cupcakes he can see Scout eying close enough that they’re within reach of the boy. "If you think you can fit anymore, of course."

Scout probably should stop eating. He can barely breathe, let alone eat anymore, and he doubts he’d be able to stand up. In the back of his mind he wonders how he’s ever going to make it back to his room, but he’s never been the type to worry about the future.

“I don’t know if I can… but I wanna try,” he says while he peels off the wrapper of a chocolate cucake, heaped with icing. He should probably let up. He takes a big bite and swallows it down with a groan that’s more pain than pleasure, but he wants to keep going. Everything in him wants to keep going.

The first cupcake disappears and his body tells him he really needs to stop, but he doesn’t yet. He unwraps a second cupcake and bites into it. It’s just as fluffy as the first one, and he tilts his head up just far enough to take a few shallow sips from a glass of lemonade before lying back down and continuing.

Three cupcakes in and his stomach feels like it’s going to explode. Perfectly round, extending off his body like an alien creature, swollen and a little pink at the top where the skin is stretched the thinnest.

Four cupcakes and his pants are starting to feel tight despite being completely open. The band of his briefs is cutting into his lower belly and he tugs at it wearily to try and release the pressure.

Five cupcakes and he finally decides to stop. He rubs both his hands down his aching belly, full to the brim, hard and gurgling. He gets icing on his stomach but he doesn’t bother to clean it up. His eyes are crushed shut and his chin and cheeks are smothered in frosting. It looks like he swallowed a watermelon, heavy and round and hopelessly big despite how very skinny the boy is usually.

He’s stunning. Absolutely amazing, as far as Engineer is concerned. He’d never imagined Scout could get so big. But there he is, looking so full that another bite would cause him to burst. There’s no room left for the boy to grow anymore but that’s okay. He’s perfect and there’s very little Engie wouldn’t do to get his hands on him now.

He coughs nervously, clearing his throat so he doesn’t sound so hot and bothered when he speaks. “You’re looking a bit uncomfortable there kid. If you wanna take your pants all the way off I won’t judge.”

“I don’t think I could bend that far if I tried,” Scout whines, puffing his cheeks out in discomfort. He pokes at his stomach, groaning. There isn’t an inch of free space inside him, his belly is solid as a rock. Flushed and panting, he tries to wriggle out of them, but his body doesn’t give him a lot of room to work with.

"You want a hand?" Engineer offers. He doesn’t wait for the boy to answer before he moves in front of him and starts tugging the boy’s pants and briefs down to his knees. He’s gentle of course, careful not to jiggle the boy too much. He’s not sure how well he’d handle the movement.

The pants get caught under his ass and Scout is too full to lift his hips so it takes some maneuvering for Engineer to get them out. But once he does they slide down easy, pushed down by his expansive waist.

Once they’re out of the way Engineer can see the hardness of Scout’s cock, almost as full with blood as he is with food. It’s red and hard, standing up far enough to press against his lower belly.

"Enjoyed your meal didya?" Engineer can’t help but tease.

“I dunno man my body’s all confused and weird,” Scout throws an arm over his face. “All the blood’s going south cause I ate too much I think.”

He rubs a hand over the indent where the band of his underwear cut into his stomach and sucks his lips into his mouth. Amazingly, he seems to have single-handedly eaten more than Spy _or_ Sniper.

"It’s alright. You ain’t the only one to get a little excited over good food and a full belly." Engineer assures him. He rubs a hand over the curve of Scout’s tummy, earning a whiny moan from the overfull young man. "Personally I get a little excited seeing people enjoying a hearty meal like you just did."

Scout’s eyes almost roll back into his head. Even if he wasn’t stuffed to the gills and completely oversensitive, being touched that intimately would have gotten him hot. He squirms again and grabs the Engineer’s wrist to keep him from pulling away. “Don’t stop man, come on,” he pants, his toes curling in his socks. “Your hands are bigger than mine and it was _your_ food that gave me this stomach ache!”

Engineer can’t help beaming with pride, though his smile might be a little more of a smug smirk than he meant for it to be.

"That’s right."  he agrees, rubbing the top of Scout’s belly where his hand is being held down. "It was my food. All my cooking that you just couldn’t put down made you like this, darlin’. I’m more than happy to take responsibility for that."

Scout whimpers, the stimulation on his stomach shooting spasms down his legs and directly into his cock. He can’t manage to reach around his stomach to touch himself because at this point it’s hopeless to try and keep any of his dignity, and he tries to press his thighs together to take any of the pressure off, but it’s no use. He’s completely helpless.

“Look, man, I- I ain’t queer or nothin’ but if you’d uh… gimme a _hand_ here I’d like, owe you for the rest of my life,” Scout’s face is redder than the Engineer has ever seen it, his ears have lit up like stoplights.

"Of course," Engineer says, wrapping his free hand around the boy’s cock. His belly is so big and he’s hard enough that to get his hand around him Engineer’s knuckles rub teasingly at the bottom curve of Scout’s stomach as he slowly strokes him.

"Besides, what’s a little handjob between friends?" he asks. "In fact I could do you one better and blow you if you wanted."

Scout’s eyes pop open and he cranes his neck to look over his mountainous belly at the older man.

“Holy crap,” he whines, his voice shaking from the foundation. “I mean uh, yeah sure man if that’s what you’re into.”

"You’re not usually my type," Engineer says, bending down to lick away the icing still smeared across Scout’s belly before nibbling his way down the hard plane of flesh until he’s right above the man’s cock. "But you look good enough to eat. And I’d never leave a friend in need like this."

Scout’s mouth drops open when the Engineer fills his mouth with the younger man’s prick. He can’t make a sound, rendered completely speechless, eyes blown wide and ears so red they’re about to burst and start bleeding. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind his pride screams ‘keep it together or he’ll know you’re a virgin!’ but the rest of his body is already so far gone that he knows he isn’t going to last more than a minute.

He grabs onto the Engineer’s ears in lieu of any hair to grab and bucks shallowly up into his mouth with a cry. This is by far the best thing that has ever happened to him in his life.

Engineer gets the idea pretty quick and starts bobbing his head, taking the boy fully into his throat before pulling back to suck on just the head, teasing the slit with his tongue. He isn’t exactly expert at this but he’s had enough blowjobs in his life to know what feels good and while usually he might go a bit slower that clearly isn’t Scout’s style. If the boy could move his hips more than a centimeter or two he’d probably be fucking Engie’s throat fast enough to make the Texan gag.

Unsurprisingly, Scout doesn’t last. He gives a half-hearted attempt at warning the Texan before he’s coming hard, shooting strings messily across the Engineer’s cheeks and chin. He gives a shrill shout, his back arching as far as he can bend while the older man jerks him until the very last drop leaves his body, and he sags helplessly to the counter top.

“Holy shit,” he wheezes, his voice scorched. “That was- you were- can you- whoa.”

He doesn’t bask too look in the afterglow before he’s beckoning the Texan closer, and then reaches up for his overall straps.

“What are you doin’, son?” Engineer chuckles.

“Gotta return the favor, it’s like bro code. Forgive me if I don’t do that though I don’t think I could bend that far even if putting anything else in my mouth at this point wouldn’t make me sick,” Scout mutters as he unclips the straps, and tugs his belt open. The weight of the belt in its loops drag the older man’s overalls right down, and Scout heaves himself over onto his side by grabbing the edge of the counter in order to look him over. “Take your shirt off already,” he pulls at the red overshirt expectantly until he tugs it over his head.

He’s wearing nothing but plain boxers and an extremely tight white undershirt over his stocky body. The shirt is almost spray painted on, tight across the man’s soft belly, which overhangs the elastic of his boxers just slightly, and a little damp across his broad chest and shoulders. The sleeves are stupidly tight around his biceps, looking almost uncomfortable around the girth, and they show off tan lines just a couple inches farther down.

“Holy crap,” Scout breathes, looking over the older man.

Engineer can’t help blushing. He knows he’s not exactly ugly but he’s not the sort to usually garner that sort of reaction. That’s usually reserved for the more built men like Soldier.

"I know I’m a little soft. I do eat my own cooking and you know how heavy some of it is. But I’m not too bad I suppose." he says humbly.

“Maybe I sorta got a thing for bigger people,” Scout admits, tugging Engie closer by the band of his boxers. He grabs him by the soft handle of flesh at his side and squeezes, biting his lip with a groan. “Jesus, you’re like perfect. Not that I’m queer or nothin’ but I mean if I was you’d totally be my type.”

"Well thank you." Engineer laughs nervously. "You ain’t half bad yourself, especially like this. I’ve never seen anyone get so beautifully rounded out like this. If I could feed you up everyday I would, you look that good."

“Yeah, I’m the best,” Scout drops the man’s boxers with a gasp at the sight of his dick, just as stocky and thick as the rest of him. “Come closer,” he complains, grabbing the older man by his ass and dragging him a few inches nearer. “I’ve got like zero reach with this big stupid thing.”

He curls his knees up under his belly to give it a little more support while he spits in his hand and wraps it around Engie’s cock. His pace is nothing like the usual slow, leisurely wank the Texan will indulge in, and he has to grab the counter to keep his knees from buckling.

“Shit yeah, if I was queer or somethin’ I’d totally be on you like white on rice,” Scout babbles, pulling at the Engineer’s cock and whining when his organic hand lifts off the counter to rub at the aching side of his belly. “I could fuckin- oh, shit- I could totally ride you and grab onto your belly and use it as a fuckin’ handle, oh my god.” He fills his free hand with Engie’s side, sinking his fingers into soft fat until he reaches rock-solid muscle and he moans out loud. “Shit you got all that power under there too I bet you fuck like a horse don’tcha, shit, yeah you do.”

"Y- you got quite the mouth on you, don’t you?" Engineer groans, hips bucking a little to meet each stroke of Scout’s hand.

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t turning him on. Imagining Scout bouncing on his cock, hard belly pressing against Engineer’s softer one while he fucked the boy senseless is an appealing picture. He’d never act on it, the Scout is too young for him at almost exactly half his age but thinking about it is definitely moving things along.

Scout cries out right along with him when he comes, because he presses down on the younger man’s solid belly in his abandon. Scout’s nails dig into his side and bites his lip as his belly is streaked with come.

The kitchen is filled with nothing but their panting for a few long seconds, before Scout rolls back over onto his back, his arms flopping out beside him. His whole body is trembling, his giant belly heaving, and he looks like he’s about to fall asleep on the spot.

“Problem,” he says hoarsely, looking over at the kitchen door. “I don’t think… I can walk out of here… I’m beached.”

"Could leave ya here," Engineer laughs between pants. "Let them find you in the mornin’, mostly back to normal but still with a little belly that you’ll need to work off during the day. Naked with a mess on your chest."

He gets dressed quickly and starts tugging the Scout’s pants up his skinny little legs. “But I’m a nice guy. I wouldn’t do that to you. I’ll help you back to your room, don’t worry.”

“Carry me,” Scout demands in a whine after Engie has cleaned up the majority of the food. “Come back for that stuff later. I wanna go to sleep.”

Engineer chuckles and lifts the boy into his arms, light despite the massive weight in his middle.

“I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to do this again some time,” Scout yawns and rests comfortably in Engie’s strong arms, cradled against his soft stomach, and drapes his arms over his belly. He closes his eyes, and he’s fast asleep by the time Engineer is even halfway to his room, hiccupping softly in his sleep.


	4. Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is explicit vomiting in this chapter, so be warned.

This is becoming a problem.

It’s not that he regrets doing this with his team. It’s actually pretty wonderful. He’s never been so sexually active in all his life. In the past, the only time he’s ever been able to indulge in this kink is when he stared longingly at cousins extended far enough that he wouldn’t feel like a creep at giant family reunions over holidays, when they ate so much they had to sit back in their seats.

This is the first time he’s ever been up close and personal with not one, not two, but _three_ incredibly handsome men stuffed to the brim.

So it’s not like he _regrets_ it.

But he sure does wish he could stop subconsciously coming up with schemes about who he could land next. It’s getting hard to focus at work.

The stalemate was finally lifted, which sort of helped with his newfound problem. It was harder to think about who he wanted to feed next when he was being shot at. But as soon as combat hours were over, the imaginings and daydreams come back full force.

It doesn’t help that Scout keeps winking at him, or even occasionally coming up behind him to grab his sides and squeeze when nobody is looking. Spy never stops scowling at him which is probably meant to intimidate, but it only reminds Engineer of the time he had him in his basement, and he gets hot all over again. Sniper continues to be his only saving grace in this new world filled with nothing but full bellied fantasies.

He was prepared to resign himself to the fact that he got three of them. That is an amazing feat for any single man, and he should count himself damn lucky. He’s grateful to the fetish Gods, he’s not going to push his luck.

And it almost worked, too.

But then Soldier came barging down into his workshop one night, red faced and ranting, his fists up in a fighting pose.

“I know what you are up to, punk! I know what you’re trying to do!” Soldier shouts. “You’re a secret spy, aren’t you! For the other team! Trying to weaken my men! I won’t have it, son! You’ll have to get through me before you attack my team!”

"Solly, if you ain’t gonna talk sense then you’re goin’ to hafta slow down a little. I can understand reasonably voiced nonsense or ridiculously spoken reason, but I can’t do whatever this is." Engineer says, setting aside the tools he’d been cleaning. One of his sentries had gotten a Heavy earlier and the blood splatter had gotten all over his tool box, leaving it desperately in need of a thorough cleaning.

"Pull up a chair partner and tell me what this is all about," he says, gesturing to the only other seat in the room, a plain wooden stool by his bed that he sometimes used as a bedside table.

“I will not be seated! I will not be placated!” Soldier’s fists are still raised like he’s about to start swinging. “You are trying to fatten up my men until they can’t stand! You are trying to make them overweight so they cannot run! They need to be in tip-top shape in order to fight in the field! Who’s paying you to do this, is it the Nazis?! I bet it’s the Nazis!”

Oh. So he knows about Engie feeding the team. “I ain’t workin’ for Nazis. I ain’t workin’ for anybody. I’m not tryin’ to fatten anybody up or keep them from fightin’. In case you haven’t noticed, they’ve been doin’ just fine. And it was a one time thing with each of ‘em.”

“It’s a conspiracy! You’re worming into our ranks! You’re going to make everyone fat and lazy and then we are going to lose this war! Because of your _stupid_ home-cooked nonsense!” Soldier jabs a finger into Engie’s chest. “You can’t pull one over me, I’m too clever! I won’t let this continue, I’ll have you dismissed!”

"Soldier! It ain’t like that!" Engineer replies, raising his voice. He doesn’t like to shout if he can avoid it but it’s almost the only way to get Soldier to listen. "I’m not fattenin’ anybody up or slowin’ them down. It was one time for reasons you ain’t gonna understand. They’re as good as they ever were and I ain’t gonna change that."

Soldier narrows his eyes and jams his fists down beside him and leans in close. “I won’t understand? Try me.”

"They like my cookin’ Jane, let’s leave it at that alright?" Engineer says, blushing a little. "You wouldn’t understand because you can’ handle anythin’ that doesn’t come out of a can."

“Those canned good are reliable! They can’t be tampered with, and there’s a trusty number on the side that lets me know when to eat it by! Actually _cooking_ meals is for hippies! And communists, I bet they do it too!” Soldier stands back upright and Engineer breathes a sigh of relief when he goes right back to pacing.

"You’re just sayin’ that because by now you’re stomach couldn’t handle so much as a bite of a real potato without cavin’ in on itself under the assault of somethin’ almost healthy." Engineer challenges, anything to change the subject. "One sniff of my cookin’ would probably kill you."

“That is not true! I just prefer canned food!” Soldier shouts. “I won’t be taken by the enemy! You may have bamboozled everyone else into trying your communist culinary espionage, but you’ll never take me!”

"It’s not espionage! It’s good food and good sex. For cryin’ out loud if I wanted to kill ‘em I could have," Engineer barks, "You cling to your cans cause you’re scared of actually using your tastebuds for once in your life."

“You _HAD SEX_ with the team?! That is probably illegal! That is fraternization! That is- that’s! That’s extremely homosexual, private!” Soldier’s face is beet red under his helmet.

Engineer laughs. “Tryin’ to change the subject. It’s because I’m right ain’t it? You know you couldn’t eat a quarter of what they did. You couldn’t handle it. Scout could, Scout ate more than either of the others, but you know you can’t so you’re tryin’ to throw me off.”

Soldier splutters angrily for a few seconds, trying to get a grip on several sentences, but they break off the instant he comes up with a new one until he’s spitting like a snake and almost walking in circles.

“I will prove you wrong, maggot!” Solly shouts. “Anything _Scout_ can manage, I can! He is nothing, he is the weakest member of the team! And then once I succeed, I will have proof that you are trying to ruin the team, and I will have you shut down for good!”

"Tomorrow night then?" Engineer suggests. "Come down before dinner and we’ll see how well you do. I doubt you’ll even get close to eatin’ as much as he did but you can try."

“No! You will come to MY bunker! I will not be sequestered in your tiny hellish dungeon! We’re doing this on MY turf! Show up, and bring enough food that will rank me higher than Scout when I finish it, or admit defeat by default!” Soldier storms out without another word, leaving Engineer alone again with the noise of the boiler room.

“Oh, Lord, I’ve done it again,” he hangs his head in his hands with a sigh.

===

After combat hours are over the next day, Engineer makes his way to Soldier’s bunker. It’s a little ways off the base, not too far to walk, but the wagon he had to pile all the food into is making the trip slow and clumsy at best. Turns out, enough food to beat Scout is actually quite a lot.

Luckily he doesn’t have to worry about anything going cold because of the blistering mid-July heat that had him stripping down to nothing but a tee shirt and jeans before even bothering to start the hike.

He finally makes it to Soldier’s bunker – which is actually just a very, very old German submarine that was abandoned out in the desert and was eventually buried until Soldier uncovered the hatch with a wayward rocket and immediately claimed it as his own – and he “knocks” on the hatch with the heel of his boot.

“Password!” comes the echoey, metallic shout of the Soldier inside.

“It’s hot out and I brought the food, lemme in!” Engineer shouts back, a little crabby.

“That is not the password! You could be a spy!”

Engineer rolls his eyes. “You already think I’m a spy!”

“Password!”

The Engineer almost turns and walks away. But the prospect of seeing Soldier cowed under the weight of his own swollen belly is too good to pass up. He sighs again and takes a deep breath.

“God bless America.”

There’s a few moments of silence, and then the creaky, angry screechy sound of the hatch being opened.

"Really? That’s the password?" Engineer asks as he loads the food into the submarine.

He manages to lower all the food inside with Soldier’s help and closes the hatch, leaving them in semi-darkness. Soldier doesn’t seem to be too keen on lighting and only has a few lamps strategically set up around the space to give them just enough light to see each other.

"Charmin’." Engineer says, in an attempt at politeness. "Real cozy."

“It’s not supposed to be cozy, it’s supposed to be functional!” Soldier helps move the wagon into the largest room in the submarine, the old mess hall. The tables are scattered with various half-disassembled weapons and rockets, and even a few blueprints that the engineer wants to look over on instinct.

Soldier leans back up against a free table and gestures to one that he cleared off. “So did you bring enough for me to completely destroy Scout? Because I’m not doing this unless I’m gonna win!”

"It ain’t a competition you know," Engineer reminds him. "Scout ain’t gonna care if you eat more than him. He ain’t goin’ to know a thing about it. You just eat as much as you can alright? Forget Scout and just try to eat what you can."

“ _I_ care!” Soldier shouts as Engie starts piling food up on the table. His crossed arms slowly uncross as he looks at the food. “Is that… fried chicken?”

"Yes. And you’re gonna eat it neat and polite, you hear me? I’m not rushin’ you to the medic because you choked on a chicken bone over this crazy mess." Engineer scolds.

Soldier’s arms re-cross and his mouth screws up in a frown. “Don’t tell me how to eat,” he mutters. “I’ll show you, I’ll eat everything. All of it!”

The fried chicken is piled on the table by the pound, breaded and flaky and warm, beside a mountain of baked potatoes loaded with sour cream and butter and green onions, a bowl of gooey mac and cheese, a lake of fresh green beans and several cobs of corn. He scowls at a fresh green salad, but perks up at the heap of buttery, warm rolls. And to top it off, apple pie. Engineer has relished in the chance to make all these foods that he hasn’t had the need for, and he would have make a rhubarb pie if he wasn’t convinced that it would be too “exotic” for the purebred Soldier, so apple pie it was. There ain’t an American alive who doesn’t like apple pie.

“I see how you managed to convince people to eat your poisoned Commie garbage! It looks… pretty good,” Soldier mutters.

"I should smack you for calling my food poison. Spy got away with that kind of talk because he thought I was poisoning the food in the mess hall. But I won’t sit here and let anyone say I’d corrupt my own food." Engineer scowls at the Soldier. "And it ain’t commie or garbage. It’s just good food. So shut up and eat."

“You wanna fight?” Soldier raises his fists.

“ _Eat_ ,” Engie scolds.

Lowering his fists with a huff, Soldier looks out at the feast with a frown. This is so far removed from the usual canned foods he subsists on. He usually doesn’t even heat up the canned goods, he just pops the top and grabs a fork. It’s comfortable, it’s safe. He knows if it’s been tampered with and he knows when it hasn’t. This is outside of the comfort zone he won’t ever admit he has, because comfort zones are weak!

His only solace as he piles his plate is his (imagined) feud with Scout. Engie claims that he’s currently the lead, and that’s unacceptable! Scout is a namby-pamby fella, he tells himself as he fills his plate with chicken and green beans and corn. Things he’s already sort of familiar with, if in canned form. Soldier isn’t the sort of man to be embarrassed if he’s being watched, so he tucks in for round one.

Apparently, he also isn’t the sort for table manners, exactly. He spits bones on the ground and wipes his face on his sleeve. It’s so fascinating for Engineer to compare the way these men eat, from the twittering bird that Spy is to the comfortable slow graze of Sniper to the hiccupy galloping pace of Scout.

Watching Soldier eat is… satisfying, if that’s the right word to use. He knows he’s won, even if Soldier doesn’t know what the real game they’re playing is. He’s got him here, eating, and he’s going to get to watch him grow larger and larger, just like the rest of them. And there’s little doubt in Engineer’s mind that Soldier will surpass the others thanks to his competitive drive. He’ll be quite a sight by the end and thinking about it has Engie a little flushed.

That said there’s also something he almost hates about the way Soldier eats. Engineer was raised with an idea of manners and cleanliness. He’s used to generous praises and the concept of a napkin, something Soldier never seems to have heard of. It’s off-putting to see the man making such a mess but the eagerness with which he eats almost makes it worth it.

Soldier can hardly cope with the flavors. It’s like nothing he’s ever eaten before. He’s been eating out of cans for the past fifteen years, and before that it was military rations for ten, and before that he can’t be bothered to remember what he used to eat, that was decades ago! Food like this is completely overwhelming. Soft and savory on the tongue, he can almost see colors behind his eyes while he eats.

It’s like he’s forgotten that Engie is there at all. He eats like he’s alone, making interested little noises and sucking meat from bones with no shame. His eating seems to be systematic. He’ll finish off a piece or two of fried chicken, and then a potato, and then a helping of green beans, he doesn’t alternate bites between the food items, he’ll finish it up before moving on. Like he’s completing a checklist rather than eating a meal.

Engineer’s instinct is to clean up all the bones Soldier is throwing on the floor, but he reminds himself that this isn’t  his place, and if Solly wants it messy then so be it.

Soldier doesn’t even seem to notice, or at least he doesn’t mind. He’s so absorbed in his mission to beat Scout that he’s tunnel visioned onto the food. And the warring, overpowering flavors just help him keep eating because the only way to get over the last flavor is to introduce a new one, and continue in that cycle. He’s certainly not slowing down.

He only seems to come out of his reverie when his plate comes up empty. The lack of food in front of him seems to startle him and Engie hurries to replace the previous helpings with new ones, before Soldier comes to his senses and starts speaking again.

Before the new plate even settles on the table Soldier is digging in and Engineer has to jump back to avoid having his organic hand impaled on Soldier’s fork. He can only imagine what would happen if he tried to get between Jane and the task Soldier has set for himself. He’d probably tear him apart like a hungry lion. Which, thinking about it, is a good analogy for how Soldier eats. He’s like an animal, singularly focused on his food to the point where any thought beyond the next bite is inconceivable. It’s fascinating to watch.

He starts shifting uncomfortably in his seat after the first few plates have been totally cleared, but doesn’t stop eating. He grunts and pushes at his midsection, and it catches Engie’s attention. Peering around the edge of the table, he sees that the Soldier’s belt that usually sits comfortably around his tree-trunk waist and holds his red coat closed has gotten very tight indeed. He doesn’t stop to undo it, and just keeps eating and adding to the tension.

Engineer supposes that after a few minutes of discomfort Soldier will take a break and fix his belt. But another plate is cleared and rather than take the natural break in his meal as a chance to at least loosen the belt, if his pride won’t allow him to open it completely, the Soldier just shifts again and spears another potato onto his fork.

Engie knows he should just let him be. Getting too close now might mean Soldier killing him, thinking he’s under attack while vulnerable. But he’s never been one to leave someone in pain and it seems worth the risk to help a friend.

And it gives him an excuse to touch Soldier and feel the hard plains of muscle under his shirt starting to round out from all the food he’s enjoying.

With that in mind Engineer kneels down beside the Soldier, careful to stay out of the way of his arms, and reaches for the black leather strap of his belt. As he pushes the end through the buckle his knuckles press against the man’s stomach and where he expects to find unyielding muscle he’s treated to a layer of soft fat hidden beneath the Soldier’s shirt.

The flush on the Engineer’s cheeks explodes, turning his neck, cheeks and ears bright red. He’d never have suspected that Soldier was hiding anything but washboard abs beneath his uniform. Knowing that there’s a softness there instead, a roll of fat not terribly far removed from to the perfect handful that adorns Sniper’s lower stomach, makes the Texan hot under the collar and all the more desperate to get the man’s belt off so he can see it stretch the fabric of his jacket which hopefully will be coming off sometime in the near future.

“What are you doing?” Soldier finally stops eating long enough to look down at the other man who is trying to figure out how to disengage his belt from the loops and ammo parcels that holds it on.

“Just uh- ” Engineer clears his throat and hopes that Soldier is too dumb or sated to notice how red he is. “Just lending a helpin’ hand here, friend. Don’t slow down on my account.”

The belt finally snaps out of its final hold on Solly’s midsection. In a rush, his body surges to fill out the spaces his belt wouldn’t afford, and Soldier lets out a guttural, unashamed moan. Engineer feels that moan shoot straight into his own gut where heat has already been festering for several minutes.

Soldier doesn’t let it stall his pace, though. He hunches right back over and continues eating. He won’t admit that the release in pressure feels amazing, that would be admitting weakness, he would have been fine even if Engie hadn’t been so generous!

Predictably, Soldier finishes off all the chicken first. He probably considered the meat to be good protein or something, whatever reason he gave himself to eat sixteen pieces of chicken, the equivalent practically of two whole birds. The evidence is plain of his excursion thus far, his stomach is filling out his jacket flawlessly. But his zipper remains stubbornly closed. It’s up to Engineer to remedy that.

The green beans are the next to disappear, partly because Soldier is very familiar with them, partly because they are smothered in bacon grease and bacon bits. Every swallow makes his stomach feel tighter, but he won’t stop yet! He’s got a point to prove, and he’s _got_ to beat Scout at all costs! If Scout finds out he wasn’t able to beat him because of a bellyache, he’d just have to gut himself in shame! The bowl was almost half a pound heavy, but Solly doesn’t leave a single lone bean floating in the water by the time he’s done.

He grunts and shifts again, trying to release some of the pressure from his gut, and finally hazards a proper rub to try and soothe away some of the persistent ache.

"I can do that for you." Engineer offers, hoping he doesn’t sound too eager to get his hands on Soldier. He hadn’t really offered with the others, he’d just jumped in and they’d all been more than happy with his help. But Soldier is different. Soldier needs warning and preparation so he doesn’t feel like he’s under attack. "Besides, you’ve still got a lot left if you want to beat Scout. He had more than this gone by now." he continues, appealing to Soldier’s competitive nature. "You don’t want to waste time now do you?"

“Mmh. Alright, but no funny business or I’ll bite your hands off!” Soldier barks, sitting back to give the Engineer room to work with while he finishes off the last couple potatoes.

Engineer kneels back down at Soldier’s side like he had before and places his hand on the man’s belly. He applies a little pressure, not really pressing down on the man’s stomach but using enough force that the soft flesh yields a little under his touch. He rubs, soft circular motions into the swollen tummy under his hand, growing more excited as he feels the roundness under Soldier’s shirt that he knows wasn’t there an hour ago.

If Soldier lets him maintain contact he’ll actually be able to feel him continue to grow, be able to feel the flesh expanding and tightening as his stomach fills more and more. It’s a notion that has his pants growing a little tight at the thought of that softness that he can now sink his fingers into becoming harder under his hand as Soldier grows fuller.

Soldier’s face is steadily turning red while Engineer gropes him. He flexes his toes in his boots when a cramp shoots through him as the last bite of the last potato goes down, but Engie’s hand quickly soothes away the pain. He wonders if letting the other man touch him like this is considered weakness, but it’s hard for him to think when most of his body is occupied with digesting.

The corn is very easy to eat, if a little messy. Engie keeps needing to pull his hand back and shake stray kernels off his hand that Soldier misses. He painstakingly soaked the corn in salt water and grilled them to perfection, and to see Soldier so careless irks him a bit, but he can feel his stomach shake a little bit with every hearty swallow, so it’s not as bad as it could be. There’s eight cobs, and he’s already munched his way through five. They don’t add a whole lot of substance to his growing midsection, but what Engie can’t feel is the cramps and increasing breathing difficulty that Soldier is muscling through.

Engie has to admit he’s impressed with how much Soldier has managed to eat so far. He knew Jane would never admit defeat and would find a way to eat everything Engie had brought but he’s not even slowing down yet. He set a pace for himself at the beginning and no matter how round his stomach has gotten or how tight his clothes he’s refused to slow down. It’s admirable. If not a little worrying. He must be feeling the strain on his stomach by now but if he is he’s showing no sign of it.

Soldier has to sit back to take a break when the last empty cob joins the other skeletons on the spare plate. Engie’s knees have started to get sore, but he wouldn’t give up the petting for anything. He sinks his fingers into the steadily thinning layer of fat stretched over his growing paunch and rolls his knuckles into the underside where he must be feeling an enormous amount of pressure where his trousers are still fastened shut.

The Soldier makes a face, and closes his eyes, his face turning redder. The pressure is almost unbearable, but it seems dishonorable to start taking his clothes off. He couldn’t handle a meal without stripping, for Christ’s sake! He’s a stronger man than that! He grunts when Engie brings his mechanical hand into the mix for some very gently petting, doubling the sensation on his gut, and it sends him sighing.

Engie can feel how the button on Soldier’s pants is about ready to pop and if the man won’t lower himself to opening them, just like he was too proud to remove his own belt, Dell will do it for him. At the very least he can spare him some of the embarrassment that will come if he leaves it to burst or tear on its own.

His mechanical hand still rubbing the top of Soldier’s belly Engineer rucks up the bottom of Soldier’s jacket and tugs open the button and fly of his uniform pants, freeing the bottom of his stomach. No longer restrained the flesh fills out in his hand and he sets himself to rubbing the underside of the curve, soothing away the pain from being so tightly confined.

Soldier’s moan is almost pornographic when more of the pressure is taken off his belly. He’s started to feel queasy, but he can’t stop yet, not until he’s eaten everything, he made a bet! He’s startled to see how round his belly has become without his belt or pants in the way, how it just out hard and tight, he doesn’t even recognize his body anymore. He’s a little embarrassed that he’s unable to eat a meal like this without looking like he’s about to give birth, but he won’t admit to that sort of hogwash.

The salad looks easy, nice and light, nothing but iceberg and tomatoes and ranch dressing. It’s crunchy and cool, and it goes down without a fuss, settling into his cramped stomach. Every swallow hurts, but the contrasting temperature of the lettuce and dressing gives him some comfort, so he keeps eating.

Engie watches Soldier moan his way through the salad, each bite bringing with it a small pleasurable groan. He figures after so much heat the cool of the salad and the dressing must be a godsend to the poor man. Which is when he realizes he hasn’t seen Soldier take a single drink the whole time. He’s been too busy focusing on the food to wash any of it down with the lemonade or iced tea Engie brought.

Reluctantly Engineer stops his petting long enough to pour the man a glass of the still ice cold lemonade and set it within reach. The movement is a welcome relief for his knees but he’s all too happy to be kneeling again with Soldier’s belly under his hands, regretting his decision not to wear his uniform. The knee pads would have done him a lot of good right now.

Soldier drinks the lemonade like he’s a dying man. It’s the perfect combination between sweet and tangy that has his tongue tingling with interest as he drains the glass. Every swallow brings relief to his parched throat, but agony to his packed belly.

With the salad defeated and Engie rushing to refill his glass, all that’s left are the rolls before dessert. There’s at least twenty of them, fat and flaky and smothered in butter. They look delicious, but the more time Soldier spends looking at them instead of eating them, the more time his aching gut has to try and talk him out of it. He feels queasy when he’s just sitting there being rubbed by his ally, but when he’s eating he’s too busy to notice the flipping feeling settling in him that he only exacerbates by continuing to eat.

The rolls are very easy to eat. They’re a little greasy and slippery, and Soldier has to switch to his other sleeve because he’s already used the first one to the point where wiping his face with it would do more harm than good. He doesn’t bother chewing much at this point, they’re soft enough that they slide down his throat on a river of butter without much prompting.

His stomach is so huge at this point that he’s gasping. He’s probably beat Scout by this point, he had to have beaten Scout! There’s no way that skinny little man ate more than this, Soldier can barely handle it without passing out or throwing up. He stalls on the eighth roll with a groan and swallows down the sick feeling welling up in him. He still has a whole pie to eat, dammit. He presses the heel of his hand into his stomach and shivers. The pressure is overwhelming, he feels about ready to explode.

Finally giving in, he unhooks the top clip that keeps his coat together and slides the straining zipper down over his belly. His face is as red as his jacket as it parts wide on either side of his round tummy. He’s wearing a white tank top underneath that looked like it was tight before, but now it’s just about to tear up the seams.

Engineer wants so badly to poor the strained tank top up over the curve of Soldier’s belly so he can get his hands on the warm flesh beneath. It’d be a relief to all of them, himself, Soldier _and_ the tank top, but Jane has just given in and opened his coat. Trying to expose him further right away will be too much for the man’s pride. They’ll get there though. Engineer is sure of it.

Soldier has to slow down considerably. The rolls are still pretty easy to get down, and he adopts the motto that he’s pretty sure Sun Tzu said; “It doesn’t matter how slow you go as long as you keep going and totally crush someone.” He’s eating slower now, but if he tried to keep going at the pace he was before something might rip internally and that’s just embarrassing.

Ten rolls down, twelve, fifteen, every buttery bite has him groaning and pressing up into Engie’s touch. He’s beyond shame at this point, he needs comfort. He’ll deny all of this later, this shameful limitation, but he doubts Engineer will bring it up anyway. He’s a good friend.

The last bite of the last roll goes down, and Soldier slouches down in his seat until only his head is hooked over the back and his stomach is stretched almost straight up to the ceiling. He spreads his legs wide and moans, running both his hands down the massive, tight expanse of muscle and fat. On the upstroke, he slides his shirt up with it so he can get more directly at the skin and takes away the last layer of pressure that was holding him back.

Engie couldn’t possibly be happier. He feels a jolt between his thighs but tries to put it out of his head. Soldier isn’t the type for that sort of thing, he has proclaimed his heterosexuality often and loudly. Or at least, he’s chastised any “fraternizing” between the other men. But he can’t help but feel a swell of lust at the sight of him.

Practically flat on his back he’s slouched so far, head back, eyes closed, breathing fast and short because of the vast, immoveable gut in front of him. He’s shaking a little, and groaning, and raking his nails up the skin of his belly, trying to distract himself from the aching stomach pains. He’s definitely bigger than any of the others by now, perfectly round from top to bottom, like he’s been pumped full of air like a balloon. But Engie can still fill his hand with a little bit of fat that fringes his belly and squeeze, and Solly doesn’t even scold him for it. He wants to sink his fingers in tighter, he wants to grab on and bite down and feel the give of the fat in his mouth, he wants to press kisses to the firm part of his belly so he can feel it refuse to give. He wants to lave him with the attentions that he gave the other three, but he keeps his fantasies at bay.

He just continues his rubbing, putting a little more pressure behind the sweeping strokes to meet Soldier’s needs. Soldier’s skin is tight and warm beneath his fingers and the layer of very manly hair covering his torso. He’s about ready to tell Soldier that he can stop, that he’s “beaten” Scout, but he knows as soon as he does Soldier will consider the bet over and will send him away. And he’s nowhere near done touching yet.

And maybe a small part of him wants to see Soldier finish the meal by swallowing his pride and calling it quits. Just to see if it’s possible for the man to stop before he’s sure he’s won.

But that doesn’t seem likely to happen. He asks for the pie to be brought closer and a clean fork and before Engineer’s very eyes, he digs in. He can hardly believe it, it shouldn’t be possible for one man to eat so much. He’s not eating terribly quickly, but he is steadily picking his way through the pan, packing away bite after bite of crust and filling and fruit into his already nearly exploding belly. Engineer can feel the way his gut ripples under his touch every time he swallows and it makes him shudder.

"You alright there?" Engineer asks, breaking the silence they’ve been maintaining. He’s starting to worry a little. As gorgeous as Soldier is he doesn’t want the man to hurt himself trying to win a stupid bet that isn’t even really a bet. "You want some milk or something to go with that maybe? I don’t have any right here but I can go get some." he offers. If Soldier agrees it will at least buy the man half an hour to digest while Dell goes out for the milk.

“I’m fine,” Soldier grunts, sitting back again to take a break after finishing what looks like the equivalent of about two slices. He lets out a shallow burp that has his stomach doing flips and he groans loudly, swallowing hard to keep down the nausea. “I said I’d finish and I meant it, I don’t need any extra frilly nonsense like _milk_.”

"You don’t have to finish. You ate enough, look at you!" _You look amazing,_ he doesn’t add. You look round and beautiful and I would take you to bed if I didn’t think you’d try to kill me for it, he also thinks but he keeps it quiet. Soldier isn’t observant like Spy and Sniper. He isn’t going to notice how obviously aroused Engineer is and Dell isn’t telling.

“Of course I have to finish,” Soldier moans, his hands rubbing over the back of Engineer’s as they all three rub some of the aches away. “I said – ” he pauses to burp and give a little hiccup. “I said I would. I’m a man of my word!”

"You ate more than Scout." Engineer says, his concern for Soldier winning out over his desperation to keep touching him. "You won. You ate more than him and Spy together I think. So you kept your word, didn’t you? You said you’d win and you did."

Soldier would have beamed with pride if he wasn’t feeling so sick. Of course he ate more than Scout, he knew he would. It wasn’t even a contest! Barely even a challenge! But he _did_ say he would finish, and he _is_ a man of his word.

“I… I can keep going,” he mutters. “I’m not dead yet!”

Engineer sighs and starts rubbing the man’s unfeasibly full stomach with renewed vigor. If Soldier is determined to do this he’s going to see the man through to the end. It’s his duty as a friend and his pleasure as a man with his own particular proclivities to help Jane continue.

It’s slow going. He only takes a bite every minute or so, even if it is a big bite, and takes his time chewing before he swallows it down and adds it to the growing mass branching off his body, it barely even looks real anymore. It looks like he’s about to go into labor at any moment.

The halfway mark is grudgingly reached, and Soldier has to take another break and present himself for a more thorough rubbing. He’s barely even breathing at this point, taking shallow little gasps that make his head spin and his stomach flip. He lifts his head to look at the rest of the pie, it’s not technically a lot, but thinking about trying to eat it all on top of everything else has his throat seizing up.

“I can do it,” he mutters with a pained whine, forcing his mouth into a line to keep from pouting in discomfort. “But I don’t think I can sit up anymore.”

"You want to lay down? Your bed’s right over there I can help you over to it." Engineer offers, his heart rate kicking up another notch. He’s going to get Soldier in bed. There’s a good chance nothing is going to happen but he’s going to get him in bed and thinking about him, laying on his back, rubbing his belly while he continues to force down bite after bite is certainly appealing.

“Ughh,” Soldier grunts, looking over at his army cot set up in the corner, almost a full twenty feet away. He’s not sure if he can make it, but he’d never admit that out loud. He’s pretty sure he couldn’t even stand up at this point let alone actually walk. “I’m fine here,” he grunts, staring longingly after the cot.

Engineer rolls his eyes and gets up from his spot on the floor. The army cot is light, just a frame and cloth to lay on, and easy to lift. He carries it over so it’s by the table next to Soldier, so close he can practically slide from his chair down onto it.

Soldier scowls down at the cot and mutters to himself before finally relinquishing to the ache in his stomach and lowers himself onto the cot so he’s horizontal. Engie tucks a roll of cloth under his head to act as a pillow, and he moans in relief as the pressure of gravity is finally taken off his weighty, fuzzy tummy.

He doesn’t ask for the pie to follow, he’s pretty sure he could forget about it for now and worry about feeling guilty over his inability to follow through with his word later on, after he’s not suffocating under the weight of his own body. But Engie unfortunately remembers, and takes it off the table to sit beside him with it.

“You ready to keep going?” he asks the older man, and Soldier grunts and closes his eyes. “Are you giving up?”

He realizes he probably should have phrased that differently when Solly’s eyes pop open. “Hell no! I ain’t a quitter! Bring it on, cowboy!”

"I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant are you done. No need to go burstin’ a blood vessel or something worse," Engineer says. He’s tempted to take the pie away and sit down on the cot and spend an hour just rubbing Solly down. But Soldier’s got that look in his eyes that tells him there’s no way the man is giving up now that he thinks he’s been challenged anew.

“I’m fine, feed me!” Soldier barks.

Engie rolls his eyes again, but he caves. He provides Soldier with a steady stream of small bites that he can get down without a problem. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend like every bite is the last one, until the next one is brought to his lips. Every bite makes him even queasier, and the only way to stop it is to keep eating. It’s a very circular problem but he refuses to think about it, because if he stops to think he won’t be able to eat, and then he might lose.

He can’t even think in pictures anymore. His eyes are closed and all he can see is static as he eats mechanically, pretending he doesn’t notice the impending nausea. He feels like a casualty of war, stuck flat on his back, helpless. If someone were to attack him right now he wouldn’t be able to fight back. He might just throw up on them. Defensive puking. Is that a thing? He thinks it should be a thing. He might start training.

Clink.

He opens his eyes to see the fork hit the bottom of the empty glass pie pan. It takes him a few hazy minutes of staring before he breaks into a grin. “I did it!” he shouts, and then groans as a cramp rocks him.

"You did." Engie says, smiling at the man as he sets aside the dish to rub his belly. He thinks it better not to mention the two other pies he’d baked. Soldier can have his moment of triumph.

Besides, there’s no way he would fit even one more bite, let alone two whole pies. He would seriously hurt himself. He looks good regardless, stupidly good. No man has any right to look so singularly _delicious_. His face is almost as red as his belly, and when Engie presses down just a little bit, he can feel how thin that layer of pudge has been stretched over the colossal meal contained in his churning gut. 

"How’re you feelin’ darlin’?" he asks as he rubs, trying to soothe away the cramps he knows must Solly must be suffering. "Proud of yourself?"

“Proud,” Soldier burps. “A little nauseous… but mostly proud. I said I would eat all of it, and I did! I’ve never – ” he burps again and clenches his teeth when some apple pie washes back up with it, but he just swallows it back down. “I’ve never eaten this much before in my life but it was worth it to beat the tail off Scout.”

His usual shouting has been greatly subdued by the staggering amount of food packed inside him. His breathing is coming in about as short as a human can manage without passing out, and he closes his eyes tight against a soul-crushing wave of nausea. “Don’t stop rubbing,” he demands, but his voice cracks a whine.

"I won’t darlin’, don’t you worry." Engineer assures him. He rubs the wide curve of the man’s insufferably round belly, trying to touch every inch while still bringing the most relief to the man that he can.

There’s really no need for Soldier to worry that he’s going to stop any time soon. He’s never seen anyone with a belly so big and perfectly round and as uncomfortable as he clearly is, Soldier is still beautiful and Engineer will keep touching him as long as he’s allowed.

Solly is trapped, betrayed by his own body at this point. His toes are curling and his gut is swirling and occasionally flipping. He has to choke down backwash every time he burps, his face turning gradually redder with every nearly failed attempt to keep down everything he ate.

He’s hard pressed to think of a time he’s been more miserable, and he’s been tortured for crying out loud! His short breaths only further betray him when his body is rocked by shallow hiccups that spin his stomach inside out. His eyes roll back and he surges over onto his side facing away from the Engineer and promptly empties a part of what he ate onto the ground.

Mercifully, he ate so recently (and so much) that all he can taste is apple pie while he chokes over the edge of the cot. Engineer wrinkles up his nose and pats the other man on the back, stroking down his spine to soothe him while he retches and another, smaller wave of apple-scented vomit streaks the ground. Spitting up the last few bits of offending chewed-up pastry onto the ground, Soldier collapses flat on his back again with a moan, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“You tell anyone about this,” Soldier clutches his belly with one hand, which hasn’t appeared to shrink much but already feels much better, “I will _end you_ , maggot. I will track you down and skin you alive and then I’ll eat _you_.”

Engineers nods, knowing how much the man’s pride means to him. He would never do anything to embarrass the man publicly, not on purpose anyway.

"You have my word, friend. I won’t tell a soul," he promises. "You want me to get you some water? Maybe a washclothe to clean yourself up a little? Or I can just keep rubbing you down if you think that’ll help."

“Don’t stop rubbing, I’ll cut your hands off,” Soldier groans feebly.

Engie thinks that there could probably be worse ways to spend an evening than in a cool submarine that smells like apple pie rubbing down a good friend with a belly the size of a beach ball. Even if he does keep threatening the Engineer with bodily harm. It’s humbling, seeing such a brave and strong man flattened by nothing but good old-fashioned Texan cooking.

He decides to stay all night. He only gets up to mop Soldier’s mess once he’s dead asleep, curled around his gut on his side like a protective mother bear. He finds a spare cot and catches a few hours beside his friend, in case he should wake up in the middle of the night and need anything.

By morning, Solly is still considerably bloaty, but probably about half as large as he was before. He’s on his feet at least and thanks Engineer for a good stiff run at the competition.

“And maybe your food isn’t garbage after all. I just don’t want to hear about anybody incapacitated by it in the future!” Soldier says as he cradles the bottom of his swollen stomach with one hand and leads Engie back to the front of his bunker.

“You mean like you were?” Engineer grins at the door.

Soldier’s shoulders hitch up and his face goes red and he takes in a deep breath and shouts “NOW WAIT JUST A MOMENT PRIVATE – ” but Engie has already started on the hike back with the sunrise warm on his back and the music of Soldier’s irate screeching at his heels.


	5. Medic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an enema at the beginning of this chapter, be forewarned~

Engineer is so past regret at this point. He has officially decided that regret is a waste of time. Why should he regret anything that he’s done with these men? He’s providing them with a sense of love and comfort that they don’t often get at war. And in return he’s satisfying probably the most bizarre inclination known to man. It’s a far trade off.

He _definitely_ doesn’t regret anything he’s done.

He doesn’t.

He _doesn’t_.

It’s just, damn, he wishes it would be easier to sleep at night. He can’t stop thinking about who he wants to get next. It’s keeping him awake, and dehydrated for that matter with all of the hopeless jerking off. He’s riddled with headaches and daydreams, and winds up in the medbay a lot more often than usual for stray bullet wounds that he caught when he should have been paying attention, but was busy wondering what kind of foods Demo likes to eat, or if Pyro actually eats anything at all, or even if he could just score another date with Sniper or Scout.

It’s the middle of the night on a Tuesday, the most unassuming weekday, when he screws up his math on a set of blueprints (that probably would have gotten someone killed) and he realizes this has gone too far.

He can’t keep up with the fantasies. He’s losing his mind! He can’t keep wondering what the other men would be like if he got them just as full as the others, he can’t keep dreaming about it. There’s only one thing to do. He has to lay the whole thing to rest once and for all.

And the only way to do that is to feed every single one of them.

He instantly feels lighter after making that his personal mission, and he fixes his mathematic error and continues working without a hitch. Now that he knows he’ll get them all eventually, he can shut up his visions and buckle down when he needs to.

Always the strategist, he starts to try and concoct ways to lure the others in. Soldier obviously hasn’t spread the word of what he’s been doing, so he has to rely on his own charm and wit to ensnare the other four.

It sure would be nice if it wouldn’t still keep him awake at night, though.

He’s still riddled with headaches that come from a potent combination of lack of sleep and wild masturbating. He carries water with him everywhere he goes, but after a week it’s beginning to be too much. It’s the middle of the night, almost four AM, but he knows the doctor keeps strange hours. He hopes he’s still awake and in his office to provide him with some much needed sleep aid. Even if all he has is a brick. He’ll take a brick.

The lights are almost all off in the medical bay when he gets there. There are a few lights on in the back, through a door that leads to a sterile secondary operating theatre-slash-laboratory. Inside is the faint sound of running water, and he can hear the doctor’s voice ever so faintly.

“- mh, ja, just a little more… ach, fich, zhat’s good.”

He should knock. Or turn around and go back to his bed. He knows what that voice means, even if he’s never heard it coming from the mad doctor before. He knows those kinds of moans and groans and that desperate panting. He knows what that means.

It means he shouldn’t be here. This is something private, something to doctor will probably kill him for seeing. He should turn and leave or go back a little and come forward again, making noise to announce his presence. He should, he should, he should.

But he doesn’t. Curiosity gets the better of him and he pushes open the door without a knock or a word of warning. (He would have looked through the single round window but he’s just plumb too short.)

At first he’s not sure what he’s seeing. Medic is sitting on one of his cots with his legs bent on either side of him, framing a belly that could have made Engineer faint on the spot. He’s naked from the waist down and very evidently erect, wearing nothing but his white button-down which is straining miserably around a very swollen tummy. The emergency chemical spill shower is turned on and funneled into a thin tube which appears to be leading directly between Medic’s legs to –

Oh.

Engie doesn’t need to be a doctor to gather what’s going on in here. He’s heard of medical enemas. He’s never had one personally, but he knows what they’re generally used for, and that when administered correctly they can be very good for your health.

Apparently, that isn’t what Medic has in mind, because as little as the Engineer might know about enemas, he’s pretty sure you aren’t supposed to take in so much water that you look ready to pop. And he’s still growing, visibly, right before the Engineer’s eyes. Medic doesn’t even seem to notice his presence, his eyes closed tight in bliss, his hearing drowned under the rush of the water filling him. His bottommost button pops right open under the pressure of his growing belly and he gives a giddy little shout.

Engineer is hard as diamonds in seconds, watching Medic’s belly grow. He doesn’t know if he wants to drop to his knees and beg to touch or turn and rush back to his room and energetically masturbate. Again.

Neither seems like an option as his body doesn’t seem to be his anymore. He can’t move his legs and he can’t stop his hand from moving to his crotch to rub himself through his thin pajama bottoms. He also can’t help the loud moan that escapes him when Medic starts touching himself.

The doctor’s eyes snap open and he and he looks directly at the Engineer with a startled gaze. He freezes in place, one hand around his cock and the other resting on top of his still-growing belly. With a grunt he pulls the tube out of him probably faster than he should have and it splashes to the floor where the water runs down into a drain in the middle of the room.

“Engineer!” he gasps, drawing his knees up like he could shield himself and protect a little dignity. “Vhat in Gott’s name are you doing here? It’s zhe middle of zhe night!”

"I-I couldn’t sleep." Engineer pants, his face turning redder than his uniform shirt. "I wanted to ask for some help with my insomnia. I didn’t realize you were- I mean I never would have guessed- I mean dammit, you’re gorgeous."

Medic’s nostrils flare and his toes curl and he sucks his lips into his mouth, his expression somewhere between embarrassed and furious. Brows furrowed, eyes wide, cheeks red, fists clenched, he looks about ready to start a fight if he wasn’t so swollen that _standing_ would be difficult.

He should throw the man out. He should kill him honestly, for barging in on something so private. But the way he’s flushed, touching himself, it makes the Medic take pause.

He lowers his knees to stop hiding his belly. He’s never been looked at like that while he did this. The only other person to witness him doing this is his lover the Heavy, and he was filled with nothing but concern and fear when he watched his doctor swell up like a balloon, convinced he would pop and die. Since then he’s always been forced to do this alone, with nothing but his fantasies. “You really think so?”

"Beautiful." Engineer answers, still touching himself. "I mean look at you, so full and round and just lovin’ it. It’s one of the sexiest things I ever seen. You don’t haveta stop on my account you know. I’ve never seen anyone fillin’ themselves up like that before. Watching your belly grow was just amazin’. I’m not gonna be able to get it out of my head."

Medic looks away for a moment, not sure if he should feel guilty or not. He knows how possessive his lover can be, and how jealous he can get, but it’s not like he’s letting the Engineer touch him. And besides, if Heavy would just give him the attention he craves when he does this it wouldn’t be a problem, it’s all Heavy’s fault anyway.

He turns to face the other man and they find their release together, touching themselves with several feet of sterile white tile in between. The room is filled with nothing after but the sounds of their heavy breathing, Medic slouched around the firm belly rolling off his body, and Engineer slumped against the wall.

Medic clears his throat and sits up a little straighter. “Did I hear you say you needed my help before?” he asks, trying to bring some sense of normalcy to the bizarre situation they’ve found themselves in. “If you vould give me a few moments of privacy to void I could be of assistance.”

"Oh. Oh yeah, of course. No problem." Engineer says. He goes back out the door into the dark hall, glad for a few moments to catch his breath while he waits for the doctor to call him back. He can’t believe what he just had the good fortune of witnessing.

Though another orgasm has left him more dehydrated and his head hurting more than ever.

Medic calls him back into the operating room after a few moments and he comes back to find the man clean and pressed and looking as if everything that just happened was all a figment of Engineer’s over eager imagination. There’s almost no sign of what he just saw beyond two spots of color high on the German’s cheeks.

"Right well, I’ve got one monster of a headache doc," he says before the man can ask what’s wrong. "Been keeping me up nights."

“I have something zhat can help vith zhat,” the Medic clears his throat and opens a glass cabinet. He’s not sure how to act around the man, he’s not sure if what he did could classify as cheating, but it’s much easier for him to deflect the blame onto Heavy than think it through. He pulls a bottle of pills out of the cabinet and shakes two out onto a small square of cloth, which he folds and tucks into the front pocket of the Engineer’s pajama shirt. “Take vone, and if you are still avake in an hour, take zhe other.”

Engineer’s chest burns where the man touched him. Even that brief contact brings him sudden fantasies of the doctor, full and round again, riding him on the operating table while Engineer rubs his beautiful belly. Or kneeling between the man’s legs, kissing his way down the curve of his stomach to suck on his beautiful cock.

He fights down the thoughts and mutters his thanks before hurrying back towards the door. But something makes him stop in the doorway, mechanical hand holding the frame tight enough to crush it beneath his grip.

"Have you ever…Sorry I don’t mean to pry but have you ever tried gettin’ full another way?" he asks without turning around.

The Medic had sort of hoped Engineer would leave without bringing it up again, and the color darkens on his cheeks. “I don’t know vhat you mean,” he says briskly, turning to close his cabinet.

"I mean has anyone ever fed you up ‘til you’re as full and round and fit to burst as you were when I walked in." Engineer continues, slowly turning to face the doctor. "I mean have you ever eaten so much good, hot, rich food that there isn’t a space left inside you that hasn’t been filled and you can barely move? That’s what I mean."

The Medic leans over his desk with his palms flat and his head hung. His throat feels tight and his chest feels tight and his _pants_ feel tight.

“Vell, no, I’ve never done zhat,” he looks up, face red but expression severe, like he’s measuring up the shorter man. “I take it zhat is… ah, vhat you enjoy?”

"I like doing the feeding, more than being fed." Engineer answers, forcing himself to meet the Medic’s eyes. "I like watching people get big on the food I made them."

Medic is silent for a while. He has to break the eye contact, almost shaking with excitement and a little bit of misplaced anger.

“Are you making me an offer?” he asks when he looks up again.

Engineer’s heart is beating so fast he’s glad he’s already in the doctor’s office. If it explodes there are ready replacements nearby.

"Maybe I am. If you’re interested."

Medic stands up straight and folds his hands behind his back. “Zhis veekend, Heavy is being stationed in Colorado for three days. I don’t vant to have to explain to him vhat zhis is all about. I tried vonce already, it did not go as smoothely as I vould have liked. He vouldn’t understand. But I am admittedly… curious. I vould never pass up zhe opportunity to experiment.”

"Heavy…?" Engineer asks, though it’s slowly dawning on him how obvious it’s been that the doctor and his Russian shadow are a couple. "Listen if this is going to cause problems I don’t want to be part of it. I’m no homewrecker," he says sternly.

“Nein, of course not,” Medic waves a hand at the Engineer to dismiss him. ‘It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission’ has always been his motto. “It vill be fine. I just don’t vant to have to explain to him my… proclivities. He vouldn’t understand. Not like you do.”

"If he comes after me with that gun of his I’m tellin’ him you said that. I’m not gettin’ killed for you, understand?" Engineer says, before finally turning back to the door to head back to bed. "This weekend then. My room if that’s alright. It’s easier than lugging everything through the base again."

“Actually, I vould prefer it if ve could do it here,” Medic sits leisurely at his desk. “Zhat vay I am close to my bedroom,” he swivels to indicate the door that leads to the Medic’s personal quarters. “And at zhe same time I can monitor everything.”

Engineer sighs, but agrees. He wouldn’t miss this for anything.

===

Of course, it’s one thing to drag food across the desert in a wagon, and another to carry it across the base. The base is full of mercs who would probably try to beat him up like a kid on the playground if they saw him dragging a cart full of food through the halls. It just isn’t safe, and frankly the food wouldn’t make it.

He needs a guard. A guard who won’t ask questions, who he could easily pay off, who is agreeable and –

Pyro.

Turns out, all he needs to do is bake the man (probably a man?) a blueberry pie. Pyro agrees instantly to guard the wagon as far as it needs to go if he gets the pie in the end. He’s steadfast by the cart, waving his flame thrower around menacingly at anybody who draws a little too near, or whose gaze lingers on the cart a little too long.

Thanks to the Pyro they make it to Medic’s quarters without problem. No one tries to stop them or even slow them down and Engineer is more than happy to hand over his teammate’s reward and send him off to enjoy it in peace.

He drags the cart into the Medic’s torture chamber- or rather, operating room- to find the man waiting, the operating table set with plate and silverware in preparation for the meal. Something tells Engineer that this isn’t the first time he’s used the table for this, rather than its intended purpose. But what he might have been eating then he doesn’t want to give too much thought to.

"All ready to go then? I didn’t know what you’d like so I made a bit of everything. I also managed to put together some sausage cause I know you Germans love your sausage." he says, starting to babble a bit as he unloads the cart.

“Relax, Engineer,” Medic says casually as the feast is laid out before him. “Zhis is for your enjoyment as much as it is for my interest, is it not? Don’t be afraid to enjoy yourself.”

He looks over all the food casually, scanning it to try and identify the dishes. Three small piles of sausage are wrapped on plates, steaming under their plastic wraps. Altogether they make one very large pile of sausage, indeed. A bowl heaped with some kind of lumpy white creation is set down beside a still-warm pecan pie, and a pot of cream of tomato soup flanks it on the other side. Finally, a loaf of bread and plate of cold cuts and cheeses is sat down and uncovered, and Engie doesn’t have to say a word because one whiff of the baked good has Medic smiling at the distinct aroma of beer-cheese bread.

“Zhis really is quite zhe feast,” Medic fixes a cuff over his wrist that is attached to some kind of machine designed to take his pulse rate, and straightens a pad and pencil beside him where a few things have already been jot down – probably “before” stats that he’ll take again after the experiment.

"I do like to cook." Engineer says as if needing to explain himself. "And you’re already pretty well practiced if I’m guessing right. You’re belly’s used to stretching out to accommodate a lot so I figured I’d better be sure I had enough."

“Vell to be clear, mein _intestines_ are used to zhe stretching. Not my stomach, exactly. Perhaps once or twice in my life I have eaten enough to distend, but honestly who hasn’t?” Medic says conversationally while Engineer starts to uncover the dishes.

"Well I suppose that’s true." Engineer conceded, finishing uncovering the food he’d brought and setting the covers aside, nice and neat.

He starts piling sausage and bread onto the Medic’s plate until it’s full of wonderful smelling meat and cheese and bread. “There you go. That’s a good start, don’t you think? Go on tuck in. And don’t be afraid to tell me how good it is.”

“Vell, aren’t you modest,” the Medic lifts his fork to cut into the first of the sausages, and when he breaks the casing, it gives off a pleasing “snap” that is music to ears. He spears the slice and puts it in his mouth.

He expects to taste something good enough to at least give a standard compliment to. He _doesn’t_ expect such a bold flash of flavor, it feels like he’s been kicked in the teeth and fellated at the same time. The meat is seasoned perfectly, the constitution light on his tongue – chicken, he thinks – along with the sweet, slowly built up tang of what he’s sure is apple. His hand flies to his mouth to cover his lips politely with a whispered “Mein Gott.”

"I don’ speak much German." Engineer says, his lips spreading in a proud grin. "But I’m pretty sure what you just said means it’s pretty damn good. Well eat up because there’s plenty more where that came from."

Medic quickly makes a note on his pad of paper that has Engineer’s eyes rolling, but after he finishes making his Very Important Note, he spears the whole sausage on his fork and bites into it. He could probably eat nothing but this sausage for the rest of his life. Engineer wants to see him distended, he only needs to make 100 of these. Every bite is just as good as the last, warm and salty and sweet on his tongue and easy on his throat. And just like that he realizes he’s eaten almost ten sausages, and he flushes.

For a moment he worries about seeming impolite, but that was a foolish thought to have. He sees the color in the Engineer’s face and hears the hitch of his breath every time he slides the end of a sausage into his mouth.

Sitting back, he takes a slice of bread and requests a small bowl of the Texan’s tomato soup. The bread and soup go great together, sopping up the tangy, milky soup like a sponge. Every now and then the German will stop eating long enough to take a note or two, and occasionally he mutters to himself in German. He sounds pleased enough that Engie doesn’t worry about it and just focuses on keeping his plate stocked.

“Zhe sensation is interesting,” Medic says, sitting back in his seat a little bit. His vest seems pulled a fraction tighter. “I don’t ever pay direct attention to zhe feeling of filling up like zhis. I hope it vill not put you off if zhis process arouses me.”

Engie lets out a bark of laughter. “Put off? Darlin’ I’d be delighted. I’m a little aroused myself and you haven’t even rounded out enough to pull the wrinkles out of your shirt. Don’t you worry about me Doc, I’ll be taking just as much pleasure in this as you will, you can be sure of that.”

Medic rubs a hand across his stomach, testing the tightness. It’s firm under his hand already, just tight enough to definitely be full. Under normal circumstances, if he hadn’t stopped already he definitely would have stopped now. The feeling of being perfectly full, if not just slightly overfull, makes him feel pleased and lethargic. It’s almost like a sedative, and he jots down a few more notes.

The Texan refills his plate with a new kind of sausage and heaps on a large scoop of his potato salad. He sets a small dish down beside the plate with a creamy yellow concoction inside.

“Ale mustard, made it myself,” he says proudly when the German dips the tip of his pinkie in to try it. “Try it with the sausage.”

“Am I supposed to spread or dip?” Medic lifts one of the new sausages. It’s darker in color than the apple sausage.

“Dippin’s fine, you don’t gotta worry about sharing,” Dell answers with a smile.

The mustard goes very, very well with the sausage. It’s a heavier constitution, smokier in flavor, and the mustard gives it a sharp tang that brightens up the whole experience. He chews with a hum, his eyes fluttering closed. It feels like a betrayal to his own country, to enjoy sausage made in America _this much_ , but only part of him is bothered. The other part is drowning in flavor.

“You really are a wonder,” he speaks after two and a half more sausages disappear into him, carrying him over the line of comfortably full to a little cramped. “Zhese are amazing.”

"I don’t know what you thought before, but I can assure you I’m good for more than building sentries and gettin’ shot at." Engineer laughs. He realizes he hasn’t given the doctor anything to drink with his meal and hurries to bring him a glass of cold beer to go with the mountain of sausage.

"There. That’s German beer, had it sent over when we agreed to do this. Thought you might appreciate a taste of home." Engineer says before settling back into his seat to watch Medic enjoy his meal. His stomach is a little more noticeable now beneath his vest and he figures they’re only a little ways away from him starting to undress to stay comfortable.

“Ach, you are an angel,” the Medic lifts the pint to sip from it, and closes his eyes again in bliss. “I haven’t had zhis in years. I forgot how amazing it is.”

He takes another few deep drinks to soothe his throat, rubbing the heel of his hand into his stomach. It’s starting to cramp, his body is trying to tell him to stop now. To purposefully eat past the point of fullness, to intentionally ignore the warning signals of his own body for the sake of discovery and physical progress, it has him feeling more than just a little excited.

One hand disappears under the gurney to press between his thighs and ward off the growing interest of his nethers. He spears a couple potatoes with the fork in his other hand, and perks up instantly at the flavors of the dish. “Vhat is in zhis?”

“Potatoes, mustard, eggs, pickled onions, dill pickles, celery,” Dell shrugs.

“I love it,” Medic laughs. “I have a veakness for anything pickled.”

The Engineer’s chest puffs out proudly when the doctor eats his way through the helping he was given, and then a second scoop as well, plus breaks in between to sip his beer. His vest is getting considerably tighter, pulling across his steadily thickening middle. He considers unbuttoning it, but decides against it for now. The tightness is a welcoming distraction from the cramping, and he’s sure when he unbuttons it later it’ll give him an overwhelming sense of relief, well worth the wait and mild discomfort.

The lack of clothing coming off the doctor is more than a little frustrating for the Engineer who wants to see what he looks like stuffed with more than dozen sausages and a hearty helping of potato salad. He’s been thinking of nothing else since the night he walked in on him and they agreed to do this and to have the view he’s been craving denied him is a little aggravating.

And if Medic were anyone else he’d say something. He’d offer to help him undress or to rub away the cramps he’s sure he’s starting to feel. If he was anyone other than Medic there’s a lot of things he would offer. But the doctor is intimidating enough to make him keep his mouth shut.

He decides to let the anticipation excite him rather than frustrate, choosing to believe the waiting will only make it better when Medic does start undressing.

The more Medic eats, the shorter his breath becomes. The vest continues to pull tighter, the buttons have started to strain. He groans at the pressure, running his hand down the fabric. He’s certainly never eaten _this_ much at once, and his body is putting up some pretty serious protests.

He scribbles down a few more things, noting how his heart rate has increased and the bloodflow has taken a sharp spike downwards. He presses his hand between his thighs again with a gasp as heat spirals up  his spine and settles in his stomach.

The buttons can hardly contain him as he sits back to take a break, after another few sausages disappear into him, sandwiched in the bread between thick slices of cheese. It was a hearty sandwich that would have constituted a full meal on his own, and his vest is _not_ happy with him. He tips his head back to try and breathe, just barely fingering the buttons that would give him relief. His fingers move lightly, ghosting, like he’s teasing a lover, and he has no idea of the effect it has on the Engineer.

Engineer can barely breathe as he watches Medic’s fingers toy with his buttons. He’s playing with the idea of undressing, Engie can see that. He just needs that little push that will send him over the edge and get him to expose that beautiful stomach the Texan knows he’s hiding under his shirt and vest.

He briefly considers offering to get him another beer and spill it on the Medic, leaving him no other choice than to undress. But that’s too desperate, even considering the state he’s in. And there’s no guarantee the doctor won’t become angry and decide to dissect him while he’s still awake and watching. Better to let him take things at his own pace.

Even if that pace is agonizingly slow and almost painfully arousing to watch.

When the German ultimately lets the buttons stay for now, Engie almost groans out loud. He itches to touch Medic, to feel him get rounder, to undress him and shower him in affection. But the image of Heavy glowing with righteous, jealous fury keeps his hands at his sides when he isn’t serving the German.

Medic decides to construct another sandwich, this one heaped with potato salad and cold cuts, but actually eating it is slow going. The flavors are amazing and that alone would keep him eating well past full, but the vest is becoming a serious problem. It’s almost acting like a girdle at this point, holding his body in unnaturally when all it wants to do is give in to gravity and settle down heavy and low.

The mild pain is having a potent effect between the Medic’s legs, however. With every swallow that tightens his stomach, his cock gives a pitiful throb, trapped in his pants. Every bite makes him shake with anticipation of how good it will feel when he finally frees himself.

He looks down at the buttons thoughtfully, and then over at the cold beer, and grins. He checks the clock on the wall and waits for it to reach the 12 before he tips back the beer and begins to drink.

Five swallows, ten, his pants are beginning to feel just as tight as his vest. The sensation of growing so quickly is very similar to the enemas he’s so fond of, and his cock is officially at full attention. Half the pint disappears when the bottom button of his vest finally gives up under the pressure and snaps open.

Another groan almost escapes the Engineer as the button pops, freeing just a little of the Medic’s steadily growing stomach. The small release of pressure at the very bottom of the tightly held belly only increases the pressure on the rest of the buttons, as if the taste of freedom has made his body eager for more. Engineer can see how they’re straining, stitches pulling and about ready to give out if the material doesn’t give first and allow the buttons to slip through their holes.

Maybe Medic won’t give in and unclothe himself. Maybe he’ll push further and further until his clothes simply can’t take it anymore and the buttons simply burst open. Wouldn’t that be a sight to see? He thinks, shifting a little to accommodate the growing problem between his own legs.

But Medic just _keeps drinking_. Engineer’s breathing comes faster now, and he bites his lip when the second button from the top pops open. His nostrils flare and the muscles in his thighs tense up in anticipation as the last button gives it all it’s got.

The Medic’s body is thrumming with activity. His nerves are alive, pulsing and scorching throughout his whole body, filling him with warmth and energy that courses outward from a single point of heat, his stomach.

He drains the pint and the last button is still holding on. It isn’t until he puts the glass down on the table and his body angles downward that the last one gives out. When he hears a clatter, Engineer realizes that the third button actually broke right off instead of open, and he has to swallow his groan.

Medic, on the other hand, moans his relief loudly and without shame. His cheeks are flushed with color both from excitement and the beer, and a catlike self-satisfied smile has curled across his face.

“Ah, zhis is amazing,” he pants. The vest hangs open on either side of his rounding belly, and the buttons of his white button-down have already started to pull. He slides a hand down between his spread thighs to palm visibly at his trapped cock, and tips his head back with a content sigh.

"You look incredible, doc," Engineer manages, his voice rough with lust. He’s itching to reach out and touch, to rub and fondle and just feel the tightness of his skin and the roundness of his stomach, maybe slip a hand farther down to help the Medic out with the problem between his thighs too. As a friend of course, not because he wants to hear him keep moaning and sighing like he is now.

Medic’s brows knit together and he gives another hearty moan as he works his belt open and gives himself a little more room to work with. He rubs his hand across his lower stomach to soothe the place the belt bit in, and lowers his zipper. He hears Engineer’s breath hitch, and lifts his head to look at him.

“Feel free to touch yourself,” Medic encourages, his voice a little higher pitched than normal. “Don’t hold back on my account.”

"I-if you don’ mind." Engineer says, thrusting a hand between his legs without waiting for an answer. He rubs his cock through his overalls and allows himself a low moan of relief. With all of Medic’s teasing he’s about ready to go off in his pants already. But he’s determined to see Medic swell as far as he possibly can first so he forces the sensation down and rubs only hard enough to appease his need for some kind of contact.

"I brought dessert too. If you want," he offers breathlessly. "If you’re done with all that."

Medic doesn’t hear him at first, too busy jotting down a few more notes. He sits up to see the Engineer leaning for the pie, and stops him with a hand on his wrist. “Ah, not yet. Just let everything settle, give me a few minutes. I’m not done yet.”

"Yeah. Yeah take your time." Engineer says, sitting back down. His wrist burns where Medic touched him. "I’m not in a rush. You take as long as you need. Your findin’s doin’ you any good?"

“It’s fascinating,” Medic smiles, sitting back in his seat. He has to tilt his hips up to give his stomach a little more relief, but holds off on the buttons just yet. He rubs his hand down the curve of his stomach, staring down at it with reverence. “Zhe limits of zhe human body are mind boggling. I vant to see how far I can possibly go. _Oh_ , und zhe _feeling_ of it, I feel so tight, everything tingles, it’s like I’m being very slowly and intimately electrocuted. Ah, it’s vonderful.”

"I don’ think I’ve ever seen anyone look as satisfied as you." Engineer praises, touching himself again. "It’s a good look, mind. I love seein’ a man satisfied. That’s what I like most about this. Seein’ someone full to the brim, just burstin’ with good food. There’s nothing like it. And you my friend, you take the cake so far. It’s a beautiful thing to watch."

Medic’s open-mouthed panting closes into a wily smirk. “You like to fill a man?” his voice drops an octave, and he slides a hand down his stomach and right into his pants to grope himself. “Zhis is vhat you get off on? You like to have a man full und helpless because of you? You like him to be unable to move, flat on his back, at your mercy? Is zhis vhat you do, Engineer?”

Engineer can’t help but groan, remembering Sniper on his back, full and needy, rounded out with food and stuffed with his cock, groaning as every thrust rocked his belly. He thinks of Spy, equally full and satisfied, yet cursing him as they made love after his meal.

"Yeah. Yeah that’s what I do," he admits. "I love it. Love feeding them up and rubbing them down. Love the way they feel and how good they look."

“Do you vant to touch me, Engineer?” Medic tips his head back just far enough so he can look down his nose at the other man, his hand still wedged firmly down his pants.

"Yeah." Engineer pants. His hands clench and unclench, aching to touch but knowing better than to reach out before he has permission. "But not if it’ll make you stop. You’re not done yet."

“I told you, I need a break,” Medic pants, his hand doesn’t stop down his pants, rolling and squeezing in the small space afforded. “You can continue filling me after I get some relief. Zhis is too distacting.”

"You want some help?" Engineer offers. "Cause I’d be happy to lend a hand so to speak."

“Zhat vould be nice,” Medic swallows hard.

"Or, you know, if it’s not my hand you want…" Engineer says, flushing bright.

Medic’s grin spreads wider as he finally brings himself out of his pants, standing rock hard and leaking a little against the curve of his stomach. “Have you ever gone down on a man, Engineer?” he asks, wrapping his hand around his cock and giving a single, slow pump.

Engie’s eyes are riveted on the Medic’s long and almost perfectly straight cock. “O- Once or twice,” he pants.

“Vould you be so kind?” Medic angles his hips so he can pull the hem of his pants down underneath his package, balls and all.

"Yes sir." Engineer says, sliding as gracefully as he can from his chair onto his knees. He’s already close enough to the Medic that it only takes a second for him to get into position, eye to eye with his gorgeous leaking cock.

He doesn’t start right in though. Medic had teased him and now he’s going to return the favor. He starts with his balls, kissing first before sucking one into his mouth and laving it with his tongue. He moves on to the other after a few moments and gives it the same loving treatment, his own cock twitching in his pants with every hitch in the Medic’s breath and moan that escapes his lips. The Medic’s toes creak in his boots as they curl and his hand glides across the slightly fuzzy top of Engineer’s head. He grabs the back of his goggles and pulls them off so that they drop around his neck, and rubs his thumb down the man’s cheekbone and across his jaw to his lower lip.

It’s not long before Engie decides he’s teased enough and moves on to the main event. From the man’s balls he licks a stripe up the underside of his cock to where the tip is leaking against his stomach. Finally he allows himself to touch, bringing his hands up to grab his full swollen belly as he carefully licks the tight skin clean before closing his lips around the red, swollen head of his erection.

“Gott!” Medic throws his head back and his nails dig into Engineer’s scalp. His hips twitch upwards and his toes curl tighter. His other hand digs into the younger man’s shoulder, pulling at his shirt and clawing down his back as far as he can reach in his position.

He scrabbles back for control of the situation by pressing the tip of his thumb into Engie’s mouth beside his prick, smirking when he feels the man’s tongue alternate between his finger and his sex. Guilt doesn’t even register in his mind as he lifts his gaze to the table and lays eyes on the third pile of sausage that he never even touched.

And he gets a wicked idea. As if Engineer wasn’t desperately horny enough as it is, he grabs for the plate and draws it nearer, breaks off the tie at the end of the first sausage, and bites into it. He pets Engie’s head with his free hand and starts to work through another couple sausages with the other. This new flavor is spicy and creamy, sharp on his tongue and hard on his throat and it leaves him writhing as sweat springs up across his forehead and in the center of his chest, dampening his shirt.

Engineer looks up as much as he is able and groans around the cock filling his mouth at the sight presented to him. Medic looks absolutely sinful as he swallows down bite after bite of sausage. His eyes close for a moment in absolute rapture as he chews, rolling the piece around in his mouth to enjoy the flavor before swallowing. He can see his throat working as the bite slides down into his already full stomach and Engineer likes to imagine that he can feel him grow under his hand.

Medic stops the Engineer whenever his pace gets a little too frantic, he wants this to last. He stills him with his hand whenever he starts to bob his head too fast, until he backs off to just licking and kissing again.

“Has anybody ever told you zhat you look good on your knees?” Medic asks after two more thick sausages have joined the rest in his aching stomach. He lifts his boot and pushes it between the Engineer’s spread thighs to give him some relief.

Engineer jumps at the sudden contact but settles down again almost instantly and begins rubbing against Medic’s foot, seeking whatever relief he can. He knows he’s practically rutting like an animal and in any other instance he might be ashamed. But he’s too horny, too desperate and it feels too damn good to stop.

He sucks as he rubs himself against the other man’s foot, trying to be careful not to go to fast. He can’t help himself though and finds that the German seems to enjoy stopping him with a sharp press of his foot, not quite a kick but a decent jolt, against his cock.

None of this seems to phase the doctor of course. He’s a master of multi-tasking, managing to get Engineer off, enjoy a thorough blow job _and_ keep eating without batting an eye.

Engie is drowning under the triple threat of arousal pumping into him. There’s nothing quite like the weight of a man on his tongue, and the sight of Medic swallowing his food with gusto despite his gravid belly would have gotten him off eventually even without the persistent pressure between his thighs.

This is the kind of control Medic lives for. He finishes off a third sausage and has to stop, the buttons are becoming too much. They’re too tight across his stomach, and they’re cramping him past the point of satisfaction. Masochist he is not.

“Vould you be so kind as to divest me of my buttons?” he asks, stroking down the Enginer’s bald head to cup the back of his neck, silently instructing him not to slow down his mouth while he does so.

Engineer manages a shallow nod and slides his hands over the curve of the Medic’s stomach to reach his buttons. His pace slows as he focuses on his new task, earning him another hard press of the doctor’s foot that has him speeding back up as he fumbles to unbutton the man’s pressed white business shirt.

What he exposes has him groaning out loud. Medic’s body is covered in a layer of fuzz, just long enough to curl slightly. It’s black, graying in the center of his chest, and dips down over his belly to attach to the well-groomed patch of hair at the base of his cock. Engineer longs to swallow him down and nestle his nose into those springy curls, but he fears the wrath of Medic’s boot, so he obediently sucks and licks at his length while exposing more of his pale, fuzzy belly.

His lower stomach is padded by a familiar cushion of fat, soft in Engie’s fingers, and softer still he imagines in his teeth. Medic barks in surprise when the Engineer’s mouth leaves him in order to venture higher, but he lets him explore for now.

Engineer happily licks and nibbles and kisses his way across Medic’s lower belly, familiarizing himself with what he knows will be his masturbatory material for weeks to come. He’s pretty sure he’s never going to have the chance again so he doesn’t let an inch go untouched. Carefully though, he knows better than to leave marks in case Heavy gets back sooner than Medic realizes and he doesn’t have time for them to fade.

Medic is panting now, feeling very thoroughly groped. This has been his fantasy, although it always included an enema as opposed to food. But apart from that, this is what he wanted, to be worshipped and touched like this, when he’s full and vulnerable. It’s the only vulnerability he’ll ever allow himself, and if Heavy was against it then damn it it’s his prerogative to find it elsewhere.

“Oh, Gott,” he praises, scratching his nails down Dell’s scalp. “Ja, don’t stop.”

Engineer almost laughs. Why would he stop? Why would he ever stop. Medic is beautiful. The fat on his lower stomach is the perfect counter to the tightness at the top of his curved belly. He can rub over the taut skin down to where the cushy layer allows his fingers to sink ever to slightly into the flesh, drawing a low happy moan from the doctor. He can nibble and suck to his heart’s content and kiss his way up and down the steep slope of his stomach before trailing wet kisses down his leaking cock. There’s nothing else he’d rather be doing than exactly what he’s doing right now. How could he ever dream of stopping?

Both of Medic’s hands close over Engie’s shoulders, his nails dig in past cotton into skin to leave ten purple crescent bruises that he would admire in his mirror for days to come. His hips arch up and his head kicks back when the Engineer’s mouth returns energetically to his nethers.

He doesn’t stop the younger man this time when he bobs his head lower. He twitches his hips in time, but his tight stomach doesn’t give him much room to work with. “Oh, ah, Engineer, ja, oh yes, I am close- ” he gasps, biting his lip to keep from shouting when Engie’s head dips even lower and he fulfils his desire to bury his nose in that thicket of hair. His nostrils flare and his feet lift right up off the ground and he shouts as he comes, hard.

One of his legs settles right over Engie’s shoulder as his orgasm rocks him. His back arches and his head tilts back as far as it will go. One of his hands releases the Texan’s shoulder and claps over his mouth to muffle the shout of ecstasy that punches out of his lungs.

Engineer swallows down all of Medic’s release, savoring each drop as it hits his tongue. Medic looks beautiful when he comes, his eyes closed and head thrown back. Engie wishes he could hear him un-muffled but he’s not complaining. He’s lucky to have been allowed this at all.

The sight does only make his own arousal all the clearer and he begins rutting against Medic’s boot with renewed fervor as he licks his cock clean.

Medic looks back down at the man, desperate for release, and pulls his boot away with a smirk. “I’m not done, remember?” he says, tucking himself back into his trousers and capturing the Engineer’s jaw with one hand. He swipes his thumb over Engie’s lower lip and collects a drop of missed come, which the Engineer sucks off willingly. “Help me finish, help me fill zhe rest of zhe vay up and I’ll return zhe favor for you.”

Engie groans and nods, not trusting his voice. He struggles to his feet and hurriedly puts together another plate for the Medic. He cuts a large slice of the pecan pie he’d made and sets it on the plate before adding a generous dollop of homemade whipped cream to top it off. He would have brought ice cream but he wasn’t sure there’d be a way to keep it cold. The whipped cream will have to be enough.

Medic eats the pie slowly and methodically. Every bite fills him farther, and he encourages Engie to keep rubbing away his cramps. Mostly it just feels amazing, but the occasional spike of pain can’t be avoided, and a nice warm hand to soothe it is the perfect medicine.

Each swallow is like another punch to the gut. Every bite makes him feel tighter, fuller, pushes him farther past his own boundaries. He feels the pleasant heat of arousal sink back into his limbs, even if it would be quite some time before he would be able to get up again.

The whole slice makes it into his body and he has to sit back to admire his own handiwork. His belly is huge, larger than it’s ever been even with the enemas he partakes in. The food is so much heavier than water alone, settling lower in his belly and giving him a much _fuller_ feeling than usual. It’s a slower process, but so much more satisfying.

“Another,” he pants. His belly hurts, but by God is it a good kind of hurt.

Engineer complies immediately, cutting an even larger slice to fill up Medic’s plate and adding so much whipped cream in his haste that the pie is almost completely hidden beneath it. He’s too busy hurrying to get his hands back on Medic that it’s not until he puts the plate down that he notices his mistake.

Medic laughs at the sheer amount of cream, and scoops up a dollop with his spoon to eat plain. It’s light and airy and perfectly sugary, to satisfy his secret sweet tooth that may or may not have had something to do with that pudge that lines his belly.

He doesn’t mind the cream. The heaps of fluffy white sugar clouds give him the chance to have cream on every single bite as they make their way into his stomach. He has one hand cupped to his belly permanently now, rubbing in slow circles to counter Engineer’s quick and shaky roaming hands.

It’s harder to get the second piece down. He has to pause more than once in order to clear his throat with another beer, and just to give himself time to breathe. It’s getting more and more difficult to draw in a breath with every bite, the weight of his stomach is greater than the strength of his lungs, apparently. There’s about ten bites left, but his stomach is close to bursting.

Nine bites left, he slides the toe of his boot between Engie’s legs again. They swallow at the same time.

Eight bites left, Medic has to fight his body’s sudden urge to get rid of everything he’s eaten all at once. The wave passes quickly, though.

Seven bites, he’s close to passing out. The pressure is amazing. If he could get off twice, he probably would.

Six left, he has to close his eyes and ask the Engineer to feed him the rest.

Five, he grabs onto Engie’s hips with both hands. His stomach groans, loudly.

Four, his toes curl again when a cramp rocks him. He moans and his hips twitch and he opens his mouth for more.

Three left, and he’s moaning out loud with every bite now. He can’t open his eyes, he can’t bear it just yet. He’s clinging to Engineer now, but he’ll regain his control later.

Two bites left. He’s shaking.

Last bite. He swallows it down and rests his forehead on Engineer’s hip. His stomach is larger than he thought humanly possible. He rocks slightly in his chair to try and ward off the encroaching cramps and rests his cheek against Engie’s tummy.

“Ach, mein Gott,” he moans, nuzzling his cheek against the Engineer’s waist. “Zhis is amazing, zhe best thing I’ve ever felt, ach, fich, fich.” He clutches tighter under the throes of another cramp and chokes down a whimper.

Engineer rubs at what he can reach of Medic’s massive belly. It’s not much, considering the angle, and he doesn’t think he’s doing much for the man’s cramps but he can’t keep his hands off. Medic has managed to surpass even Scout and hold everything down and love every second of it and it’s a beautiful, beautiful thing. Engineer has never been so proud or so turned on in his life and when he’s ready to fulfill his promise it won’t take much for Medic to finish getting him off.

He’s not going to rush the man though. He just accomplished an amazing feat and deserves a little pampering before he has to go fulfilling Engie’s needs. A true southern gentleman knows how to treat his lover and right now Medic needs a little TLC before he’s up for anything more. And Engineer is more than happy to let him nuzzle as much as he’d like while the worst of the cramps wrack his distended belly.

Medic has to take a few more minutes for everything to settle, during which time he strips Engie of his knee pads, work belt and overalls. The denim settles around his ankles over his boots, and his cock presses against his boxers with urgent need. There’s a little wet spot at the tip that the German can’t help but finger a little bit. Dell jumps and shouts at the touch, he’s so beyond horny at this point.

Suddenly and without warning, the Medic stands. He wobbles a bit due to his new center of gravity, but with a hand on his lower back he takes a few steps over to his desk. He sits back against the edge and cradles the lowest part of his belly with a grin.

He doesn’t even need to beckon Engie with his words. The Engineer awkwardly trundles over while kicking the overalls off over his boots until he reaches the desk as well. He gasps when he’s suddenly shoved down over the surface of the desk, and straddled by the swollen Medic. His knees hang off the edge of the desk, and his feet don’t reach the ground. He’s totally at the German’s mercy, pinned underneath him.

He thinks the Medic might be about to ride him, but to his surprise rather than move up his body to position himself over the Engineer’s cock Medic leans forward. His swollen belly presses against Engineer’s dick and he grinds forward, trapping his cock between their two bodies and supporting himself with his hands on the desk.

Engie cries out at the pressure suddenly surrounding his cock and the warmth of the two bodies he’s sandwiched between. This is almost better than actually getting to fuck the Medic.

Medic rolls his body slowly, curling against Engie’s body with purpose. He straightens his arms and drops his head with a low moan. The pressure is enormous, it makes his whole body flutter. Engineer’s whining groans fill him with pride, the power he exerts over him now swells him 100 feet tall.

When Engie’s hands grab his hips, he sits up and robs him of the pressure that would bring him release. He grabs the Engineer’s wrists in his hands and pin them over his head. Realistically, Dell knows his mechanical hand is no match for the Medic, but he relishes the vulnerability being forced on him and holds obediently still as the German lowers his body again to press and roll against him.  

Engineer is more than happy to relinquish control to Medic once it’s clear that nothing else will be tolerated. Normally he doesn’t go for such domineering partners but it’s nice to see a man who’s confident in his body and the effect it’s having on the Texan.

And what an effect it is. Heat comes off him in waves and the unyielding pressure of his belly pressing the Engineer’s dick into his own, much softer, stomach is amazing. There’s hard and soft and warm all around him and oh how lovely it will be to see that enormous bloated belly smeared with his come when he does orgasm. The thought alone has him groaning and writhing under the doctor.

Medic pants open-mouthed, his eyes wide open to watch his conquest. Engineer’s head is thrown back, the tendons in his neck are sticking out and his teeth are bared in bliss.

“You fill men up,” the German groans, the pressure of pushing his stuffed stomach against Engie has him shaking. “Zhat is vhat you do, ja? Vell zhis,” he grinds a little harder, grins when the Engineer shouts. “ _Zhis_ is vhat _I_ do. I hold men down und take zhem until zhey cry, until zhey are _made_ for me.”

"Oh lord…and you’re damn good at it too darlin’ let me tell you." Engie pants as he struggles to lift his hips, seeking a little more pressure. He’s close, so close already. He just needs a little more.

Medic flattens his body against Engineer’s, forcing the other man’s soft stomach almost flat against the onslaught of Medic’s firm belly, and he bites the Texan’s shoulder.

Engineer comes howling, bucking against Medic’s hip until he slides back down to roll against Engie’s twitching cock. He continues to grind long after Engineer’s orgasm ends, carrying him seamlessly from pleased to overstimulated, but he doesn’t seem to be begging Medic to stop any time soon.

“Have you ever been taken by somevone you stuffed like zhis?” Medic asks, slowing his grind to a very slow rock, releasing the Engineer’s hands so he can take hold of his hips again.

"N-no." Engineer gasps, fighting to catch his breath. "Never. Most of ‘em are too stuffed to move much at all let alone be so dominatin’."

But maybe he wishes they would be a little bit. Because if all his encounters could end like this, happily sated beneath a beautifully engorged man who’s belly is covered in his release, well he’d be okay with that. More than okay actually.

Medic’s face splits back into a grin. It seems he likes to hear that he’s the only one to have Engineer in this position. He sits back up, straddling the man’s soft waist, and rests his palms on his own stomach, sliding them to collect the release on his fingers.

“I may require some assistance getting to my room,” he muses thoughtfully, staring at the door to his quarters a few yards away. “You are velcome to stay zhe night, if you vant.”

"Oh I uh…I don’t think so." Engineer says nervously, rubbing his hands down Medic’s thighs. "I mean I’m happy to help you to your room and tuck you in and all that. I am a gentleman and I would never leave you here like this. But I’m not sure staying the night would be the best idea."

“Up to you,” Medic shrugs as he swings off the Engineer’s body. He wobbles to his feet, using Dell’s weight to support him as they head towards his bedroom.

He’s deposited on the bed with a happy, sated groan, and he stares down at his stomach reverently. He’s going to have to do this more than once. Suddenly perking up, he pushes up on his elbows so that his body bunches and his belly looks even rounder. “Oh, on zhe table, I left my tape measure. And in my bathroom, my scale. I need to take zhe final measurements before I sleep zhis off.”

Dell nods and hurries off to retrieve the tape measure and Medic’s notebook from the medical table. He deposits them on the man’s lap before he goes to the bathroom to fetch the scale, figuring it’ll be easier to bring it to the doctor than to bring the doctor to it.

"Do you want me to stay awhile? Because if you’d rather be alone I can clean up dinner and be on my way." Dell says when he sets the scale down about a foot away from Medic’s bed.

“Stay as long as you like,” Medic sits up with a grunt at the edge of his bed. He doesn’t look at Dell, his eyes are riveted by the sight of his own body. With a huff, he manages to get back to his feet, and winds the tape around his waist. “Gott, my vaistline has increased by 7.5 inches. Zhat’s more zhan I ever managed vith an enema.”

"Well anytime you want to do it again I’d be more than happy to help." Engineer says, blushing a little at his own boldness. "To collect more data of course. I mean one experiment ain’t exactly conclusive right?"

“Of course, you’re right,” Medic quickly writes down his weight before relaxing on the bed again with a sigh. “I vill let you know vhen I need to run anozher experiment. For zhe time being, however, I need to rest. My body has been put through zhe ringer, as it vere.”

"Right. Well, good night then doc," Engineer says, hastily backing towards the door.

He closes it softly behind him and goes back to the operating room to refill his cart with the now empty dishes. He can’t get the image of Medic out of his head, his swollen belly pressing down on Engie from above, trapping his cock between them. It’s not a sight he’ll soon forget and it’s a welcome companion in his cold, empty bed that night.


	6. Demoman

Engineer has never felt better in all his life. He walks with a spring in his step everywhere he goes. This is the most satisfying thing to happen to him since he earned his first degree.

He realizes over the weeks, he’s sort of building a harem. Besides Spy, who has yet to be alone in a room with him since his shame in the Engineer’s basement lab, the rest of the team that he’s partaken with have taken a shine to him.

Sniper will sometimes invite Engineer into his camper on cold nights. They’re far enough away from the base that nobody sees the van rock, nobody hears Sniper shout. It’s easy enough to hide the bite marks that Sniper leaves purpling on his shoulders.

Scout will pester him about when the next time they can spend an evening together. “I wanna feel full like that again,” he says. Scout _claims_ he never sucked a cock before, but Engineer isn’t so inclined to believe him.

Soldier’s face turns red every time Engineer looks at him. He doesn’t ask to “have dinner” with him again, but he seems to feel a little closer to Engie than before. He doesn’t bark if Engineer enters his personal space anymore, and he’s pretty sure he’s felt Soldier’s hand brush his once or twice.

Medic winks at Engineer in the halls when they pass, sometimes he’ll even boldly reach out to pinch his bottom when nobody can see. On one occasion he felt the German’s lips brush his ear when he leaned over the Texan to resupply at one of his dispensers.

Growing up in a little town like he did, he was taught that a man was supposed to settle down with only one person, for life. If you’d told him back then when he was a God-fearing Christian that he’d be swarmed by four men on a weekly basis, seeking everything from meals to sex to good company, you’d’ve popped his poor head clean off.

They aren’t all his lovers, exactly. In fact he hasn’t officially had proper sex with any of them apart from Sniper. But they’re intimate enough to make him wonder if he’s going to Hell for it.

Five down, three to go, he reminds himself. Although he doesn’t really know how he’s going to get the next, or even who he wants. It’s fun to daydream about it, but to actually put the plan into action is a little intimidating. Heavy can be downright frightening, Demoman is an enigma unto himself, and he’s not even completely sure Pyro has a mouth.

Sometimes he thinks he feels eyes on him. Like someone is watching him move about the mess or in the halls. He can never catch who’s doing it but the feeling only grows more intense the mornings after he’s spent the night with Sniper or feeding Scout enough to give him a little taste of that fullness again.

At first he thinks it must be Spy, watching his disapprovingly from afar as he seems too nervous to come within ten feet of the Texan these days. But Spy seems resolute on ignoring his very existence and not once when he can see the man does he catch him glancing in his direction. If it is him he’s either doing a hell of a job hiding it or he’s mastered a technique of watching someone without using his eyes.

If it isn’t Spy that means someone else has caught on or _is_ catching on to his little arrangement with their teammates. Which, if they aren’t ready to string him up as a sodomite for it, might work in his favor.

Lucky for him, he doesn’t have to spend too much time looking for his stalker. It sure is handy when they come right to you.

Demoman comes strolling down into his workplace one night, and he seems a little bit less drunk than usual. He doesn’t swagger quite as much, and his eye is sharp, almost hyperfocused.

“What can I help – ”

Engie doesn’t get to finish his sentence. His rolling chair is spun around and shoved backwards against the desk he’d been scribbling over. His breath instantly retreats high in his throat as he’s trapped in his chair by a pair of strong arms, and Demo looms over him.

“I heard what you’ve been up to,” he drawls, his eye narrowing just slightly, his full lips quirk into a smirk. “Scout cannae keep his mouth shut. Didnae say your name, but yer the only one I can think of who could cook like he talks on about.”

"T-the poor kid was wastin’ away that’s all. You’ve seen how he complains, I just did a bit of cookin’ for him to spare us all." Engineer sputters. He isn’t sure he likes the look on Demo’s face. He reminds Engie of a hunter that’s got a tasty looking deer in his sights. He’s just got to pull the trigger and he’ll have meat for weeks.

“Not just Scout, I’ve heard,” Demo continues. Engie’s arm rests squeak when his fingers grip tighter. “Heard the Medic talking to Sniper about it, too. Soldier’s suddenly stopped callin’ your cooking hippie food, I wonder what that’s about?”

"I like cooking and they’ve all been around for me to cook for." Engineer says. "I ain’t playin’ favorites they all just asked me about it first or got on me about it enough that I just had to prove them wrong. I am a red blooded American you know. I don’t take insults lightly."

“An’ all this time I’ve been hearing, I’ve been wondering,” Demo leans in a little closer. Engineer shivers. “When’s my turn?”

Engineer takes a shuddering breath, hoping Demo doesn’t notice how turned on he is by his eagerness to be fed and his rather dominating attitude. Maybe he’s secretly got a little thing for being in a submissive position. Maybe. Just a little. If he does it’s not really anyone’s business right?

But Demo doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Not really. He’s heard them talk about Engie’s food but he doubts he’s heard about the rest.

"I’d be happy to cook for you partner, but I think you’ve got the wrong idea."

“I don’t think I have,” Demo’s eye flicks down over the Engineer’s body before snapping back up to his face. “Scout talks _at length_.”

Engineer’s eyes narrow a little. He doesn’t mind his food being complimented but he doesn’t want anyone spreading rumors about him behind his back. Especially true ones about his sex life.

"How much did he tell you?"

“Didnae tell _me_ a thing. He was talkin’ with the other scouts. Loudly.” Demo licks his lips. “I drew my own conclusions. Yer a feeder, aren’t ye Engie?”

Engineer’s eyes widen in surprise. There’s no way Demo would have heard that term from Scout. Scout isn’t well versed enough to know that kind of terminology. Which means…

"I just might be. If you’re looking for someone to feed you up til you’re so full you can’t take another bite," he says, hoping he’s guessing this right.

Demo’s nostrils flare, he exhales slow, and the other corner of his mouth hitches up to join the first. “When can we start?”

===

Engineer and Demo make plans to get together in a few days, giving Engineer enough time to whip up a proper feast for the Scot. He doesn’t know much about Scottish cuisine and when he tries to look it up he finds out why. It’s amazing Demo’s ever been interested in eating anything considering what some of this stuff sounds like.

After reading up he’s more determined than ever to give Demoman a proper meal. Food warm and perfectly seasoned, each bite bursting with flavor. It’ll be so good he won’t be able to put his fork down until every last crumb is gone and he’s more stuffed than a turkey on thanksgiving.

Which from the sound of it, is exactly what he wants.

He has so many questions. Why does Demo want this? Has he always wanted this? Where did he hear about it? Has he ever done it before? He doesn’t think it’s polite to go questioning a man’s tastes, however, especially considering he has the same strange appetite for it.

Thank the stars, Demoman is willing to come to Engineer’s basement lab for the meal. Engie’s had just about enough of lugging food all over hell and yonder. His wagon is supposed to be used to carry heaps of machine parts, not food. It doesn’t help that the food has made his wagon smell pretty good, which only attracts attention on the battlefield now.

He doesn’t have to carry anything this time, except from the oven to the table. He would have piled his things on the bed but – well, he doesn’t want to assume anything. But he did change the sheets just in case.

They planned to start around ten PM, when most of the other mercs would be in their rooms settling down for the night, and nobody would be lurking in the halls to ask questions about why Demo was disappearing into the basement where so many others seem to be drawn.

He arrives perfectly punctually, and Engineer is surprised to see that he doesn’t seem to be swaggering or stumbling at all. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the man was almost completely sober. It warms his heart to think that he would put off his usual habits just for his food. Well, it might be for some other reason. But shoot, he’ll go ahead and take credit for it.

“I hope yer ready for me, laddie, I skipped lunch!” he hoots as he comes down the stairs with a spring in his step.

The stairs are dim and it’s not until they’re in Engie’s room that he can properly see the man. He looks him over from head to toe once, twice, a third time just to be sure he’s seeing right.

Because Demo is gorgeous. For a man who spends most of his time drinking there isn’t a trace of a beer belly anywhere on his magnificent, and mostly unclothed, torso. The Scot’s shoulder to waist ratio had always been a thing of legend around the base and more than once he’d heard it said that the man was built, to all appearances, like a comic book superhero. But no one had ever mentioned his perfectly chiseled six-pack abs that looked probably hard as rock, visible under a scandalously tight white tank top. And no one had said a thing about the long ropey muscles of his arms, no doubt built up over years of sword play with the broadswords he seemed so fond of.

In short he was an Adonis. A tall, beautiful, black Adonis. And for the first time in a very, very long time, Dell felt more than a little self conscious about his own soft doughy middle.

Demoman doesn’t seem to notice Engineer’s discomfort. He rocks on his heels and puts his hands on his hips and grins at the display laid out for him on the table. He whistles low while Engineer pulls out the chair for him, and he sits down with an eager little bounce.

“I _heard_ about it, but I didnae expect it to _smell_ like this,” Demo hums, closing his eye to appreciate the aromas lifting off the feast. He looks back over at Dell, and his smile slips when he sees the way the other man is fidgeting. “Ye look nervous,” he frows, leaning forward “Are ye alright?”

"You don’ look like the other fellas," Engineer blurts before he can stop himself. He flushes and looks away.

Demo laughs out loud. “No shite, I’m black.”

Engie splutters, “No, I mean, they all have some muscle to em, but Scout and Spy are mostly bone. And Sniper, Soldier and Medic all got a good bit of softness to ‘em. You don’t have a pinch of fat on you from what I can see.”

Demo’s grin softens a little bit. “You haven’t seen my bottom,” he knuckles the Engineer’s wrist playfully.

Engineer can’t help but grin. “Well if you’re offering partner, I wouldn’t mind takin’ a quick look.”

“Not just yet,” Demo guffaws. “I don’t plan on getting’ up fer a while yet.” That spurs Engineer into action, who starts to put together a plate for Demo. “What all’ve ye made?”

Engie’s cheeks turn pink again. None of the others actually asked him what he made. It makes him feel like he has an even more important role in the meal. “Well, uh, I’ve made all sortsa things.”

“Ye dunnae wanna talk about it?” Demo raises his eyebrows at the other man with a smirk.

Engineer clears his throat. Something about Demoman’s shamelessness and relaxed charisma have his cheeks burning a constant shade of pink. “I made a brisket, dry spice rubbed. Whipped up some barbeque sauce to go with it – whiskey barbeque sauce.” He pauses for the whoop that leaves the other man and chews his lower lip with a smile. “And also chicken-fried steak with gravy and green onions. Collard greens and ham hocks, cornbread and chili – I hope you like it spicy. And then bourbon bread pudding and red velvet cake for dessert.”

“Lord in heaven,” Demo whistles as the Engineer sets down a stacked plate for him.

“Oh, and to drink,” he hefts a small barrel onto the edge of the table and lifts a mug to the tap. The liquid comes out crystal clear and honey colored. “Been brewin’ myself a stash of beer for a while now, just so happened to finish this morning.”

Demo’s mouth drops open as he watches the glass mug fill. “Are ye serious?” he looks up at the other man. “And yer sharin’ it with _me?_ ”

"Well sure. You’re a good friend and everyone knows a drink is better when you share it with a friend," Engineer laughs. The glass finishes filling and he hands it off to Demo. "Besides, you’re the only one around here who will appreciate it besides myself. You know how picky Medic is about his beers, Spy only drinks French wine, Heavy won’t touch anything ‘sides vodka and Scout would get one whiff and pass out. Lightweight."

He fills another glass for himself and takes his seat beside Demo. “And today is a special day. I’ve never met anyone who liked this as much as I do before. It means something to me.”

Demo looks down at the beer in his hand and back up to Engineer. His grin has gone crooked and it looks like he might break out into song and dance. “Don’t mind me if I start tae cry,” he says, his voice lilting with joy.

"I won’t mind as long as they’re tears of joy. If it’s bad enough to make you cry I don’t wanna hear it, understand?" Engineer laughs. He lifts his drink and holds it out for a toast. "To friends and good food?"

The glasses clink together and Demo officially starts off the meal with a sip of the amber liquid. It’s cold as ice, and a beautiful contrast to the suffocating heat of the basement. It’s light on his tongue, which makes sense given that this is the Engineer’s personal brew and he wouldn’t want to be drinking anything too heavy when he’s out tending his sentries in the hot desert sun. It tastes almost wheaty, he could describe it as bright even, with a sweet aftertaste that has him closing his eye to appreciate.

He finally digs into the food, and he would have paused to compliment it had he not skipped the last two meals. As soon as substance started to enter his stomach, it woke up to remind him just how hungry he was. Engineer is more than happy to just keep his mug full and watch.

Demo seems to like to eat with his eye closed. He doesn’t talk with his mouth full, although he does his fair share of muttering between bites. Engie tries to stay quiet to hear what he’s saying, but from what he can gather they’re just quietly whispered praises and exaltations; he doesn’t need to hear every word.

He doesn’t actually take pause until about ten minutes later. Only half the plate is gone, but it’s enough that he can finally slow down now that the angry gurgling of his empty stomach has been silenced.

“Ach, I’ve been so quiet I’m sorry,” Demo laughs and wipes his mouth with a cloth napkin Engie provided. “Skippin’ meals is a great way to fit more later, but it’s always a pain in me side. Literally.”

"I don’t mind the quiet so much. Means you appreciate the food. I take that as a compliment darlin’." Engineer says, happily. "As long as you’re still eatin’ the quiet is alright with me. Though I wouldn’t mind hearing a bit of what you think if you’re taking a break."

“Best food I ever tasted,” Demo almost whimpers. “Don’t tell me mum.”

Engineer can’t help but grin. “I won’t I promise. I’d never insult a man’s mother’s cookin’, even indirectly. But I am mighty glad you’re enjoyin’ it. I spent a good many hours slavin’ over a hot stove to put all that together for you.”

“How long ye been a feeder?” Demo asks abruptly, lighting up Engie’s cheeks all over again.

"Well that’s a tough question," he says, scuffing his boot on the floor. "For a long time I suppose. I always loved seeing people satisfied after a good meal. Lookin’ full and content. Thanksgiving dinners were a personal favorite when we’d have family friends over for a meal. Didn’t really realize just how much I liked it until more recent. Then once I realized how beautiful a man with a really, truly stuffed belly could be, well it was hard to stop thinking about."

Demo grins and spears a heap of greens and ham on his fork. “Sounds eerily familiar to me own happenings.”

“How do you figure?” Engie asks, but waits politely for the other man to finish chewing.

“When I was a lad we had family reunions. Massive DeGroot clan family reunions. Hundreds big, and everyone brought more food than we needed. Happiest days of my childhood and on, those reunions. Tables stacked together on the green to make room for family I didnae even know I had, generations wide. Food piled to the clouds, every man and woman ate till they couldnae move, and then we rolled ourselves into our tents to sleep it off. Haven’t been to one in years, I miss it terrible.”

"Well, if you’ve got any family recipes, I’d be more than happy to whip up a little nostalgia for you." Engineer offers merrily. "It won’t be exactly the same of course but it might bring back some of the old feelin’."

“I’m more interested in _new_ feelin’s if you get me,” Demo smiles, and it only broadens when Engineer’s face darkens another shade and he shrinks down an inch in his seat. “I’ve ate like this myself a handful of times, but never with anyone else. At least, never with anyone _like_ me. Heard about it a while ago, but never met another one.”

"I never knew," Engineer admits. "That other people had a likin’ for this sort of thing. Thought I must be some kind of freak, gettin’ all hot and bothered by feedin’ men up. Didn’t seem right. But I guess I can’t be the only one if you’re interested in this too."

“There’s at least two of us,” Demo grins.

He starts to eat again, this time stopping every few bites to compliment Dell’s cooking. How full-bodied the flavor of the brisket is, and how the homemade sweet barbeque sauce only adds to the entire experience. He extols the texture of the steak and gravy, and praises the heat of the chili.

He clears his plate without a problem, and laughs when he sees the Engineer trying to sneak a peak at his midsection. “Ye don’t have to be shy or secret this time, laddie,” he reminds the other man, and sits back in his seat. His stomach is still lamentably flat. “But it’s gonnae take more than one plate to phase me. I’m not even winded.”

"Do you get round?" Engineer asks as he stands to fill another plate for Demo. "I mean I don’t see how you could with muscles that tight. I’ve no doubt you can put plenty away I’m just not too sure of where it’s all goin’ to go."

Demo laughs loudly. “Don’t worry, I can get plenty round. Have many times before. What’s more ye can see everything without a stitch of extra fat or skin hidin’ it. Ye can see everythin’ fer exactly what it’s worth.”

Engineer can feel his cheeks burning and he shivers a little just thinking about it. Strong muscles stretched over Demo’s perfectly full belly, no fat distorting just how big he’s really gotten. It’s a dream come true.

"In that case darlin’ you better get eatin’," Engineer says, setting the plate down in front of him.

Demo certainly isn’t arguing with that. He drenches more of the tender brisket in barbeque sauce, reveling in the sweet tang of the sauce and warm spice of the meat. The whole cut of meat is humongous, he would guess at least ten pounds. As much fun as it would  be to try and eat the whole thing, he needs to save room for everything else, including dessert.

The greens are very tender, and have a nice salty flavor from the ham. They don’t require much chewing, and there’s nothing Demo enjoys more than being able to just swallow something down. The sensation of swallowing any soft food without chewing sends a thrill through him.

The more he eats, the quicker he approaches a full feeling. The chili makes him sweat and almost makes the basement feel cooler by comparison. The cornbread takes up a lot of the slowly shrinking free space inside him. Pretty soon he’s going to hit that wall that he has to work past, it’s always his favorite part.

He finishes off another of the pile of chicken fried steaks, polishes off his mug of beer, and smiles. With a second empty plate, he’s officially hit that wall. This part is so exciting.  

“I’m full,” he grins.

Dell blanches. “Done?”

“Did I say done?” Demo laughs. “I said full. Means from here out I’m only gonnae get bigger.”

The distress clears from Engineer’s face, replaced by a slightly nervous excitement. He’s not used to doing this with someone who knows their body as well as Demo does and it’s a little odd to have forewarning before he starts growing. He likes it though. He’s got a feeling that Demo is going to make sure he pays attention from here on out so he doesn’t miss anything. And there’s no way Engie can complain about that.

"Let me get you another plate then. Maybe another beer too, to help you get it all down."

“Do ye wanna feel?” Demo asks.

Engie almost trips over his own feet. “Feel?” he repeats. Demo just sits back in his seat and waggles his eyebrows a bit. Breathlessly, the Engineer approaches. Demo takes his organic hand and slides it under his shirt until his palms is over the top of his long, lean torso.

He finds that Demoman’s abs aren’t quite as hard as granite. They’re quite solid, but very warm, and soft to the touch. Not the kind of soft like Sniper’s pudgy stomach or Soldier’s secret gut, it’s an unyielding kind of soft, like brushing somebody’s cheek or trying to sink fingers into a firm backside. However, at the very top of his rangy torso, the Engineer can feel the hard press of Demo’s comfortably filled stomach, much firmer than the rest of his flat belly. It’s an entirely different kind of sensation than the other bellies the Engineer has touched, and he doesn’t know what to do with the lightning bolt of lust that rockets through him. It doesn’t help that Demo’s hand is still loosely clasped over the back of his.

"That’s really somethin’ ain’t it?" Engineer asks breathlessly. He hopes Demo will let him keep his hand there when he isn’t getting his food. He wants to feel how the muscles shift to make way for his expanding belly. He wants to feel him grow under his hand.

Demo’s gaze is downright smoky when Engineer meets it. Demo’s hand trails up his arm to the back of his head, and he pulls his goggles off over his forehead to drop them under the table. His hand slips back down Engie’s neck the long way, tracing every inch of skin he can get his fingertips on. The reverent expression on Dell’s face is priceless, foggy-eyed and open-mouthed and pink-cheeked.

No one else has touched Dell back like this. Usually right now he’d be fidgeting in his chair, desperate to get his hands on the man beside him, knowing that it’s purely his own desire he’s sating. He’s grown not to expect any sort of reciprocation.

To have Demo touching him and looking at him like this is strange and exciting and has all the blood that isn’t turning his cheeks redder than a tomato rushing south.

Demo’s lips spread into a grin when the Engineer stumbles away to refill his plate. The good Texan boy in him gives a hoot when Demo pinches his bottom as he walks past.

Engineer isn’t complaining when Demo decides he wants more of that chili. He says it reminds him of curry his mum used to make, and the heat is a wonderful distraction from the awkward pinch of eating past that first wall. He sits with his back straighter than he normally would so his shirt won’t bunch and hide any growth.

Finishing off a bowl of chili and a warm heap of crumbly cornbread has put the smallest of dents in his waistline. It wouldn’t even be noticeable if it weren’t for how closely Engie was watching. Were anyone else to see him in this state without previously paying so close attention to the flatness of Demo’s stomach, they would think it was just the swell of his abs.

The change isn’t very great or noticeable and on anyone else Engineer might have ignored it. But with Demo he had been skeptical that even this much of a change would be possible. The man is so fit that getting his body to shift even the littlest bit out of its perfection seems an insurmountable challenge. But here he is, the very beginnings of the swollen tummy Engineer is longing for already starting to show. He still isn’t entirely sure if Demo is capable of growing as large as someone like Medic or even Spy but he’s certainly not going to be staying flat as a pancake like the Texan had expected.

Determined to smash down that wall, Demo tucks into another heaping pile of meat, smothered with barbeque sauce. He uses his napkin liberally to keep clean, which Engie appreciates while he continues eating. It seems like such a feat, to eat as much as he has already with a body as lean as he’s got. To watch him keep eating and eating is like watching a miracle unfold.

Every bite makes him feel tighter, this is the part that Demoman loves. To feel himself expand with every bite, to know that he’s eaten every free space filled and is still going, to press his own body, to fill it and fill it and fill it until he aches, this is what he loves.

The meat is heavy in his stomach, it weighs him down and makes him feel even fuller than he already is. He breathes deeply, to feel the lack of give of his own body, and relishes the heavy, hot load inside him. Gravity is pulling harder on him now, harder still with every bite of meat he swallows. And he isn’t even close to finished, he could go on for days.

His tactic has always been to give himself short breaks every time he hits a cramp. He’s found that ultimately, it takes longer, but it’s easier for him to fit more in if he lets it settle every few minutes. When another steak and a half is swallowed down with the rest, as well as another drained mug of beer, he needs to take that break, and sits back in his chair with a sigh. He doesn’t expect to hear the Engineer moan softly beside him.

Turning his head, he sees that Dell has captured his lip between his teeth, and his eyes are staring straight at the small swell of his stomach. It’s grown since the last time Engie really got a good look, but it’s still little. Like a big lunch, it’s not nearly as huge as the Engineer wants to see him. But just acknowledging the bit of extra girth around his middle has him so flustered and hot that he doesn’t realize he’s making noises out loud.

With a smirk, Demo pushes up out of his chair. Engineer snaps out of his daze, but he doesn’t have time to react before the other man is swinging his thigh over his, and sits down right in his lap. Engie sucks in a gasp when their bodies press together, he can feel how hard Demo’s stomach is against his and while that makes him tremble, he knows it means Demoman can also feel how very _soft_ he is.

He tries to suck in his stomach. He knows it’s stupid and Demo probably isn’t going to care that he’s got some extra fat on him but he does it anyway. Demo is firm all over, his arms, his pecs, his belly, everything is tight and hard.

Usually the press of a hard belly against his soft one, feeling the difference as they slide against each other, is something that Engineer would relish. But Demo isn’t just hard from all the food he’s eaten. He hasn’t gone from soft to firm like the others. He started tight and has only gotten tighter and compared to every firm muscle on his body, Dell’s stomach is an embarrassment.

“Ye got tense again,” Demo runs his hands down Engineer’s arms and sits back a little bit. “Too soon?”

"No, no. God, don’t move," Engineer says, grabbing onto Demo’s waist and pulling him back in. "You just surprised me and I’m a bit shy about my body all of a sudden. Need to adjust a little."

Demo frowns and sits back again to look down. “What do ye have t’ be shy about?” he laughs. “Yer gorgeous, laddie.”

"I really ain’t. I mean, I got great arms, I’ll give you that. But I’m carrying a spare tire ‘round the middle. You must’ve felt it when you climbed aboard," Engineer counters. "That’s all. It’s not the sort of thing one shows off on a first date with someone quite as good looking as yourself."

Demo’s brows furrow. “Ye must be joking,” he slides his hands back up Engineer’s arms to cup either side of his strong neck. “Did ye really think that I would enjoy this sort’f thing and prefer my men skinny?”

"Not skinny exactly," Engineer shrugs as best he can with Demo holding his neck. "But a little less doughy. You’re hardly skinny partner, but you are dense. I’ve got a good bit more jiggle to me."

“Ye’r right about that,” Demo grins, and wraps his arms around Engineer’s shoulders to give him a fulcrum to grind his belly and hips into Engie’s. “I love it.”

"You do?" Engineer says, biting back a moan at the feeling of Demo’s belly pressed against him. "I mean I love the feeling of a hard belly against a soft one as much as the next man but that doesn’t make it that much less embarrassing."

“Now ye listen to me,” Demo takes the other man by the chin so they’re looking eye to eyes. “I won’t have any of that from here on, ye hear? If I didn’t think ye were hot as the summer sun, I wouldn’t be sittin’ on yer lap. Stow the woe-is-me’s, deal? I’m gonnae have a hard time suckin’ yer willy if ye get all drippy as soon as I get yer shirt off.”

Engineer shivers a little and unclenches, letting his entire belly press against Demo’s swollen abs. “Alright darlin’ alright. I don’t need much more of a pep talk than that. Not when I got a beautiful man in my lap that I’d hate to see leave any time soon.”

Demo’s grin widens when he feels Engineer’s tummy spread against his own, soft and warm. He closes his eyes and curls his fingers around the back of Engie’s neck and tips his head back and _sighs_. “Perfect,” he hums, dipping his head to nuzzle behind Dell’s ear. “Now, what do you say to gettin’ back to the main event? I’m not even close to done.”

Engineer sucks in a sharp breath and allows himself to briefly caress Demo’s stomach, imagining how it will feel in his hands and against his own stomach when he’s full to capacity.

"I’m certainly amenable to that darlin’. Though I hate to have you move."

“I’ll be back, don’t worry,” Demo swings off the Engineer’s lap and raises to a stand again. He gives a little ‘oof’ when his center of gravity shifts and he has to sway to accommodate it. His back has to bow just slightly to give his curved abs room. He drops back into his own seat with a sigh and Engineer pops up to give him a new plate.

His stomach might be feeling a little tight now, but it’s a nice, easy kind of tight. One that isn’t hard to eat through. He only gets tighter with every bite of food he takes. He sneaks glances over to Engineer after every few swallows, happy to see he hasn’t clenched back up. The sight of his soft belly pressing against and slightly over his belt has him feeling more than a little warm.

Warmer than even the food could make him. Even as he finishes off another bowl of chili and cornbread, and another helping of brisket, even as he swallows down another steak and heaping pile of greens and soaks everything in beer, even with all the good hot food that fills him, he feels the warmest when he’s looking over at the other man.

Engineer knows Demo is looking at him. It’s impossible not to notice when he can’t take his eyes off the man. He sees every bite of food he takes and every fraction of an inch that’s added to his waist line as he expands to accommodate it. He isn’t entirely sure what Demo is looking for but whatever it is he sees it in the Engineer or he wouldn’t look at him as often as he does.

And that’s exciting. Knowing that somehow, Demo is as aroused by this as he is only makes Engie more eager to see him completely and utterly full and get in his lap and under his hands.

The more Demo eats, the clearer it is that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s tactical with his food, alternating textures and flavors and weights of the foods to maximize the space inside him. He experiments with flavor combinations, sandwiching brisket in cornbread and smothering the whole thing in barbeque sauce, taking bites of greens with steak, mellowing the hot sting of the chili with mouthfuls of beer. He eats and eats, filling up farther with every plate cleared.

He’s definitely enjoying this more than the others. The others were interested in the food, for sure, but Demo enjoys the feeling of filling up. It’s evident in the way he keeps rubbing his swelling belly, patting himself indulgently and giving little groans and shallow burps in between self-satisfied smiles. It’s a wonder to behold.

The food is going fast and Engineer is starting to wonder how much bigger Demo can get. He’s used to cooking for men with almost no experience filling their stomach to this capacity. Demo on the other hand is practiced. He’s done this god only knows how many times before. (Engineer would like to know. He’d like to know for how long this has been going on and if he can be a part of it again in the future.)

Is it possible that Demo can eat more than he made? It doesn’t seem like a person could eat that much and not rupture something but Demo set a steady pace and has yet to slow down aside from the break he took when he hit his first wall. Even Soldier couldn’t eat everything without throwing up, and he has twice the breadth of Demoman.

He doesn’t stop again until his breath is coming in a little shorter. His shirt has definitely filled out. Anybody would be able to notice at this point, the round curve of his belly. It’s a rather steep curve, he has to arch his back to make room for it, and he rubs the lowest, heaviest stretch of it.

“Would ye like to do the honors of undoing me trousers, laddie? The button’s about te burst.” He groans and arches his hips to try and give himself relief.

"Of course darlin’. Hate to think you might be uncomfortable," Engineer answers.

His hands are shaking a little as he reaches out to unbutton Demo’s tight fitting pants. The Scot is right, the button is barely hanging on. Engineer barely has to touch it before it slips through its hole. The pressure of Demo’s belly pushes his fly most of the way open before Engineer can get a solid grip on the zipper, but he contents himself with undoing the last half an inch.

Demo groans and tips his head over the back of his chair as Engie lavishes the mark his pants left behind with affection. He sighs happy, fluttery noises, licking his lips and curling his toes. Opening his eyes halfway, he gives the other man a red-hot stare, and wordlessly lifts his shirt over the curve of his belly to show off every inch of the smooth dark stretched skin. The valleys of his abs are almost flattened out, but the suggestion of them remain over the mass of food churning in his rounding gut.

Engineer looks at Demo, checking if this is just a tease or if he’s being invited to touch. Demo’s smoldering look is enough of an answer and Engineer happily takes advantage. He rubs along the heaviness at the bottom of Demo’s curving stomch, easing away the pain from his too tight pants, before sliding farther up, following the natural path of the curve up to almost his pecs, then back down the sides where the skin stretches where belly meets ribs. The shadow of his abs are still there, like barely discernable hills on his globe of a stomach. Engineer can feel the shallow dips as he passes over them and wonders if with a little more food Demo might smooth out completely.

Demo moans out loud at the attention. This is entirely new to him. He’s eaten himself flat on his back more times than he could count, but he’s never had another person to share in this kind of intimacy. Even at family reunions when he could get away with this kind of eating without being stared at or called a pig, he would never get this kind of lavished affection.

“Oh, laddie, you don’t know what yer doin’ te me,” he groans through grit teeth, the tendons of his neck standing out as he fights against the powerful wave of arousal that tries its darndest to get him out of his seat and into Engie’s lap. He’s not done eating yet, he’ll have time for that later.

"I think I do darlin’. I think it’s probably it’s probably the same thing you’re doin’ to me." Engineer groans, his hand dipping lower. He rubs along the bottom of the curve again, the back of his hand brushing the bulge of Demo’s cock, making the man gasp a little and his belly to shake as he instinctively shifts to give room for his growing arousal.

“Ah, Engie,” he rolls his hips up, chasing the pressure and heat of Dell’s hands. “Kiss me, lad.”

Engineer doesn’t need to be told twice. He leans forward, putting maybe a little too much weight on his hand as he dips down to meet Demo’s mouth with his own. Demoman grabs the back of his neck to hold him there. The kiss is passionate at first, their teeth click and their tongues slide, breath puffs through noses and growls vibrate in their throats. But as the kiss lingers, it softens, deepens. Right past lustful aggression into a lull of peaceful warmth. A kiss the likes of which Engie hadn’t shared with any of the other men.

It turns gentle, slow and leisurely, like Demo is tasting him. He nips at Engie’s lips and licks behind his teeth, caresses the back of his head and sighs into his mouth. It’s the kiss of a lover, not a conquest.

Engineer finally has to pull back before the kiss totally overwhelms him. He isn’t used to this. No one else has been this gentle with him. They’re all hard and fast and desperate. There’s nothing like love in their touches. With Demo there’s the sex, but there’s also a touch of romance that he doesn’t know what to do with.

Demo’s eyes are foggy when he looks up at him, and he looks more satisfied than any of the food made him. He rubs his thumb behind the other man’s ear and laughs out loud when he sees the look of flustered confusion lighting his face up pink.

“Am I comin’ on too strong?” he asks, his smile slipping a little bit.

"I ain’t never been kissed like that."  Engineer says breathlessly. "I’ve kissed plenty of fellas and few ladies too but none of them kissed like that."

Demo’s smile returns full force. His eyes crinkle and his cheeks crease and he pinches Dell’s earlobe between his fingers to twiddle it tenderly. “That’s cause ye never kissed a DeGroot, my friend.”

"It didn’t feel like just a kiss I mean," Engineer tries to explain. He’s so flustered he doesn’t know what to say. "It was a mighty fine kiss, but it felt like something more there. I don’t want to make assumptions."

Demo’s grin drops into a fond smile. “Maybe it was. Do ye really wanna drop everything to talk about it now?”

"No, of course not," Engineer says, offering his own shaky smile in return. "We can talk about it later."

“Good answer, because I could really use some dessert. Didnae ye say something about bourbon bread pudding?” Demo looks back over at the table, where a dish sits untouched and heaped with gooey, warm sweet bread.

"That I did darlin!" Engineer says happily, glad for the distraction. He gives Demo’s belly another quick rub before pulling back to serve the pudding.

Demoman has always had a weakness for sweets that he doesn’t indulge often, for one great big reason. Because he has a hard time stopping. He’s eaten himself completely sick more than once on desserts. Leave him alone in a room with a cake and he’ll eat the whole damn thing and regret it while lying flat on his back unable to move, unable to breathe; one sharp movement away from throwing up frosting by the pound.

The only time he can safely indulge is when he’s already eaten to a good solid girth. If he’s already stuffed himself halfway silly, he has a lot less will to keep going with the sweets well beyond where he should.

The bread pudding smells heavenly. He closes his eyes and pretends that the rumbling in his belly is from the prospect of eating, rather than shamefully loud digesting of everything he’s filled up with already.

Engineer serves him a generous helping, making sure the entire thing is warm and gooey and covered in bourbon sauce so that every bite will be bursting with flavor. He gets a fresh beer for each of them too, knowing Demo is going to need it to wash down the sticky mess of bread and sugar and raisins.

Demo moans loudly as soon as he takes the first bite. His eyes close and they don’t open again until he’s swallowed. The bread is soft and wet in his mouth, the raisins are warm and melt on his tongue, and the bourbon sauce brings a savory-sweet flavor to the dish that brings Demo’s tongue straight to orgasm in a single bite.

“Oh lord, deliver me from this dessert, I won’t survive it,” he whispers with a smile, staring up at the ceiling.

"I might have been a bit indulgent in the makin’ of it." Engineer admits, his cheeks lighting up red again. "Its a bit on the rich side ain’t it? I’m sorry about that."

Demo doesn’t say anything else as he plows through the helping. Every bite makes him feel tighter and bigger, warmer and heavier and all around happier. The sugar settles weighty in his belly, and he swears he’s a lot rounder now than he was before as he swallows down bite after gooey, sticky, delicious bite.

One helping went down easy – too easy, Engie thinks, considering how much he’s eaten already (does he have a hollow leg?) – so Demo thinks two will go down just as nice. Engineer doesn’t need to tell him that he added a little extra half scoop to the second helping.

Demo doesn’t seem to notice anyway as he packs it in. He groans with every bite, and his pants start to feel tight despite being open. He tugs his shirt off over his head when the thread hem at the bottom starts to dig into the top of his belly even pushed up all the way. He loves eating his way out of his clothes. It makes him feel powerful, in control of his body in a way most people aren’t.

Engineer is all too happy to see the shirt lost. There’s nothing hindering his view of Demo’s round, heavy belly now. He looks beautiful, full and hard beyond anything the engineer would have imagined. His skin looks like it’s been pulled taut as a drum over his stomach, like one more bite might make him burst.

But Demo takes another helping without complaint and starts packing it away with the rest, swallowing down mouthful after mouthful like its no problem.

He has to take breaks more frequently now, every half a serving or so as he works his way through three heaping piles. Engie can only watch breathlessly as almost a quarter pound of bread pudding disappears into his body and makes a very noticeable change in the state of his belly.

Sitting back, he slides his thumbs back and forth under the top of his pants where they dig into his stomach. He folds down the sides as best he can to give himself more room as his vision zeroes in on the red velvet cake. He looks down at his tight gut and puffs out his cheeks in thought, drumming his fingers on the taut skin as he looks back up at the cake.

“Okay, I need to have some,” he decides. He’ll be aching by the time he’s done, but he knows Engineer will be more than happy to soothe away his tummy ache.

"It’s pretty heavy partner," Engineer warns as he slices into the cake. A thick layer of sweet cream cheese frosting sits atop the rich red pastry, adding to the already incredible density of the dessert. Engineer starts with a small slice, silently praising himself for choosing to go with this rather than the even heavier chocolate torte he had been considering.

“Do ye doubt me?” Demo feigns offense. “Ye think I cannae do it? I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have, laddie. I’d bet you me sword I can eat three slices!”

"I meant no offense darlin’ I swear!" Engie says quickly. "I only meant that you might want to take it slow that’s all. I would never suggest that you couldn’t handle it."

“I’m teasin’ ye,” Demo reaches to pinch Engie’s bottom. “I might have a hard time takin’ it slow, though. Maybe you could help me. Control the fork for me, ye ken?”

Engineer almost drops the plate in surprise. He catches himself and answers with an enthusiastic nod, not quite trusting his voice. Taking his seat again he loads up the fork with a conservative, but not small, bite of cake and frosting and lifts it to Demo’s mouth.

The other man opens his mouth obediently for Engie, and he gets a thrill from it when he closes those full, pouty lips over the tines of the fork, and his eyes close in bliss from the flavor of the cake. _His_ cake. Engie could cry.

Demo is thankful for the opportunity to take his time. He savors every bite before swallowing it down to join the rest of the food. He’s starting to feel a little light-headed and short of breath, but he can’t bear to stop. This isn’t anything he’s ever experienced before, it’s so new and electrifying. Engineer is taking a direct part in the stuffing that will soon put Demo on his back, he wants this so evidently and without shame, he wants this for Demoman. He wants to fill him until he really can’t move, just like he’d said.

He hears the fork hit the plate and opens his eyes to see it empty. He takes in a deep breath (as deep as he can) and rubs both of his hands down his stomach. He’s never really found his limit before, he’s always just eaten everything he can until he decides to stop. He’s feeling pretty indulged already, but he’s certain he could take more.

“Another,” he prompts, exploring the flattened skin of his round stomach. His abs have become more of a metaphor than a muscle structure.

"Why don’t you take a minute to breathe and let that slice settle?" Engineer suggests. There’s a little bit of frosting at the corner of Demoman’s mouth and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward and licking it away.

“If ye insist. Yer in charge of the fork,” Demo pants and massages the heels of both hands into his belly. “I could use a little attention, though.”

Engineer smiles and presses his hand againt Demo’s belly, alternating between the heel of his palm and the pads of his fingers as he massages the wide expanse of flesh. “Gettin’ cramps there darlin’? Think you’re getting towards the end?”

“Didnae I say three slices?” Demo sighs out a happy laugh when Engie tickles a finger into his shallow belly button.

"You certainly did partner. And I’m goin’ to hold you to that. But two more slices ain’t that much until you’re done. And you look about ready to pop to me." Engineer says, continuing his massage over Demo’s belly.

Demo sighs again, angling his hips up a little farther to take just a fraction more of the pressure off his straining gut. “Pop, please. I could eat a whole horse. I’ll eat anything. I’ll eat you if ye aren’t payin’ attention,” he grins.

"I hope you mean that figuratively." Engineer replies with a smirk. "Cause unless you can swallow me whole I’m not really up for bein’ part of dinner. I’d prefer to go through life un-masticated if that’s alright with you."

“Ye make so many _demands_ ,” Demo heaves a dramatic sigh. “The only way yer gonna stop me from eatin’ ye right up is if you fill me up with cake until I can’t _breathe._ ”

Engineer shoots him a mischevious smile. “Well if that’s my only choice I suppose I can make that work.”

He gets up and retrieves another slice, this one slightly larger than the last. He offers the first bite to Demo, heavy with frosting, and watches it slide into his mouth and disappear down his throat and it’s positively sinful.

This time, he pays special attention to Demo’s throat. The way it spreads around larger bites, the way his adam’s apple bobs, the sounds of his esophagus as he gulps down the heavy cake and thick frosting. He listens to his belly gurgle as he swallows down beer to clear the way for still more cake.

He’s like a machine. He’s unstoppable. Engie’s overalls tighten with every bite Demo takes, as though he were getting bigger by proxy. Although, in a way, he is. Just in an entirely different area.

Demo is panting by the time he finishes the last bite of the second slice. And although he demands no break this time between the slices, he’s still sitting back and groaning and massaging his huge, achy belly.

Engineer has another slice ready in a matter of moments, eager to see what Demo will do. Will he ask for a break? Admit defeat? Or dive right into the third slice and devour it just as he has all the others?

He fills the fork and lifts it, not all the way to Demo’s mouth but enough that it’s ready if he decides he wants it.

When Demo grabs hold of his wrist and pulls it in close so he can take the cake off the fork, every drop of blood in Dell’s veins and sinew floods south. He’s _definitely_ going to Hell.

Demo plows through the cake. His stomach is begging for relief, but he knows the sooner he gets it down, the sooner he can stop. His whole body wants to relax, lie back and bask in the sensation of being so full he can’t move. But he said three slices, and by God he’s going to make good on that.

Two and half slices of cake on top of three servings of bread pudding, a pound of brisket, enough greens to kill a cow, half a gallon of chili, heaps of cornbread and several steaks would be enough to put any man out, but he’s determined.

Engineer stops lifting bites to him about three quarters of the way through the cake. Demo looks beyond stuffed. He looks like he’s one bite away from exploding. His belly is almost perfectly round and his abs have completely disappeared. He’s absolutely gorgeous and Engineer doesn’t think he can wait one more minute before he gets his hands on him.

Demo doesn’t seem to notice at first. He’s so flattened he can barely function, let alone rationalize thought and time passing. But after a few long moments, he does realize he has nothing in his mouth anymore, and he lifts his head.

“Why’d ye stop?” he asks with a shallow huff. “It’s not gone.”

"I know partner, I know." Engineer says, assuring him. "But I don’t think the rest of this is going to do any good. You might be able to swallow it down but you’re going to slip into a food coma any second and I ain’t done with you yet."

Demo looks longingly at the last few bites of cake, but the implications of Engineer’s words have the fire flickering back to life from underneath the pile of food that partially smothered it. “What do ye plan to do with me?” he asks breathlessly, licking his swollen lips.

"Well I’ve got a few thoughts. Most of them start with you on your back in bed, if you know what I mean darlin’." Engineer says, smirking again. "You can leave your pants here if it’ll make it easier to move. You aren’t going to need them for a while."

It takes a good bit of wiggling to get out of his pants, and Engie has to assist the poor achy Scot out of his boots before he’s finally stumbling over to the bed in nothing but socks and plain cotton boxers. He flops over gracelessly on his back like a beached whale, his belly sticking straight up off his body so huge and round it looks like he might give birth at any second.

He sighs, completely satisfied, and full right up to the brim. He strokes both his palms down the expanse of his gut with a moan. “Did I get round enough for ye?” he teases the Engineer, who is staring so intently he’s having a hard time getting out of his overalls.

"You’re perfect darlin’." Engineer says, still struggling with his overalls. He’s never had any trouble with them before but today the clasps seem stuck and his fingers keep fumbling with his buttons. He finally gets them undone and lets the drop unceremoniously to the floor in his haste to get over to the bed and start pressing wet kisses to every inch of Demo he can reach.

Demoman sighs and rubs his palms down Engie’s shaved head to the back of his neck, his lips curling into a happy smile. “I hope ye were thinkin’ of takin’ me until I pass out,” he hums, rubbing his toes up the back of the Engineer’s calves. “Because if you don’t I dunnae think I could find anybody else to.”

"Don’t you worry darlin’." Engineer assures him as he spreads his hand over his large, beautiful belly, "I’m going to take good care of you."

He leans forward to give Demo a kiss, his stomach pressing against the hard mountain that is Demoman’s belly as their lips meet. Most of his weight is resting on his mechanical hand, the other still caressing the side of Demo’s engorged belly, but he allows enough of his weight to settle on top of he Scot’s tight belly to draw a groan from the man beneath him at the pressure.

“I dunnae think I can handle much foreplay,” Demo moans, lifting his legs to curl loosely around Engie’s hips. “I need it bad, laddie.”

He sandwiches his hands down between their bellies so he can tug open the jeans Engie wears under his overalls and shoves his hand down his briefs without warning to close around his cock. Demo lets out a moan as he feels the weight and girth of it in his palm, soaking up the heat through his fingers and biting his lip as he tries to visualize what it’ll look like when he finally gets the Engineer undressed the rest of the way.

"Alright, alright darlin’ hold on." Engineer says through panting breaths. He pulls back, forcing Demo’s legs to release him, so he can grab the waistband of the Scot’s boxers. Getting Demo to lift his hips so he can tug them off is tricky but they manage to get him up enough that the Texan can tug them down and release the other man’s cock.

And what a cock it is. Fully aroused Demo’s well above average, almost eight inches if Engineer were to guess, and thick as a sausage. Full and heavy with blood, his erection is a wonder to behold even if it leaves Engineer feeling more than a little embarrassed by his own six and half inches.

"Of course every part of you would be this perfect." Engineer says with an amused shake of his head. "Though I do feel a little sorry for any lady friends you might have had in the past. That’s an awful lot to take."

“Never been in that sorta company with lasses,” Demo gives a breathy chuckle and arches his hips up to search for some kind of attention.

"Neither have I but that don’t mean I haven’t tried it once or twice." Engineer says, wrapping his hand around Demo’s cock and giving a few sharp strokes to watch the other man writhe in pleasure.

“Please dunnae tease me, lad,” Demo groans and tips his head back. “Next time ye can take all the time in the world to crank me up but I _need_ you now somethin’ fierce.”

"I’m just taking a minute to enjoy the sight of you darlin’. It’s not often I get a treat like these, even with all the other fellas clamorin’ for my time." Engineer teases.

He finally takes mercy on the Scot and produces a tube of lotion, suitable for use as a lubricant, from his jeans pocket. He’d grabbed it when he was getting ready so he’d have it on hand, just in case.

When that first finger slides into him, Demo’s eyes roll back and his mouth drops open, his muscles tense up and he _moans_. He loses control of his language, his words running together until they’re indiscernible, begging for it deeper, more, _yes laddie, there_.

His toes curl and his eyes close, brows furrow, his blood sings. Two fingers, his tears prick with tears at the stretch. He feels overwhelmed, like every nerve ending is being eaten alive, fried, Engineer is electrocuting him from the inside out.

“Engie, ah, lord, yes, more,” he pants, cupping one hand to his belly to keep it from swaying too much while he tries to arch his hips down into the Engineer’s touch.

Engineer works a third finger inside Demo, seeking out the bundle of nerves he knows lies inside every man that will have Demo screaming his name. He plans to take the man apart before he truly makes love to him. And from how Demo is reacting it doesn’t seem like that’s going to take very long.

Demo’s cock bobs against his belly with every shallow gyration of his hips, flinging white droplets of precome that stand out bright against his dark skin. He fists the sheets and curls his toes in the fabric to try and give him some leverage. For the most part, he’s at the Engineer’s mercy.

He opens his mouth to beg for more, but all that leaves him is a crow of pleasure when Engie’s fingers finally stop skirting that point, and smash right into it. His voice echoes off the walls and the ceiling, his hips lift off the bed, his gut churns and his face burns and he screams _there_.

Engineer grins and repeats the action, finding and rubbing hard against the sensitive spot until Demo is twitching beneath him, overcome with the onslaught of sesnation. He looks so beautiful Engineer almost doesn’t want to stop so he can make love to the Scot. He wants to keep going so he can see every movement, every change of expression and see his face when he finally comes.

But his own aching cock reminds him how badly he wants this and after a few more rough strokes of his fingers he withdraws, leaving Demo whimpering at the sudden emptiness.

He doesn’t have enough time to complain before he’s refilled, with the Engineer’s thick cock. All of the breath in his body leaves him in a single, surprised shout as he stretches to fit the impressive girth of the other man. The liberal application of lotion gives them the slide necessary for Engie to slide in to the hilt in one smooth motion. Demo claws for his hips desperately, keening when Engie’s soft belly presses up against his.

“Oh, oh, oh laddie yes, yes, that’s right,” he praises breathlessly, his gut shaking with his heaving breaths.

"You feel wonderful sweetheart," Engineer praises, pulling back a little before pressing forward again.

Demo is hot and tight all around him and he’s tempted to drive forward right away, to put all his strength into his thrusts and plow him into the mattress but he reels himself in and forces himself to start slow. Shallow thrusts, in and out, rocking his hips to allow them both to adjust to the feeling.

The flattened Scot is thankful for the slow pace at first because when he’d said he wanted to be taken until he passed out, he didn’t quite mean it literally. He lifts his hands to take Engie’s shoulders with a whine when his prostate is thoroughly massaged on the in and outstroke of the Engineer’s cock. He can’t open his eyes, between the gravid weight of his gut and the choking, consuming pleasure slithering through his veins, he can barely breathe.

When the Engineer starts to speed up, Demo’s body shifts to accommodate. His belly seems to tense up to avoid being shaken so much every time Engie’s presses into it. He’s rocked with cramps that make him ache from nose to toes, but he won’t tell that to the other man. He’d rather suffer with the cramps in silence than give Engineer any reason to stop.

“Ah, go, harder, dunnae stop,” Demo grinds out through his clenched jaw, breathing in hot puffs through his nose.

Engineer is happy to oblige. He leans forward on one hand, the other coming up to rub at the bulge of his stomach as he angles his hips. He pulls back quick and snaps forward, putting more of his strength behind the thrust than he had before, earning another strangled cry from the Demoman.

Demo’s hands drop to the sheets again under the assault of mind-slaughtering bliss. He barely has the presence of mind to keep sawing breath into his body, let alone hold his arms up.

“Please,” he gasps, throwing his head back with a shout when a lightning bolt rachets up his spine. “Please, touch me, I cannae reach.”

"Sure thing," Engineer pants. The hand on Demo’s belly slides lower, following the curve of his stomach, to fit between them and wrap around Demo’s hard cock. He starts to stroke in time with his thrusts, forcing his mind to stay with the rhythm rather than be drawn away by the beauty of Demo’s reactions. He’s getting fairly close himself and its getting harder and harder to keep his thrusts steady and not lose control into sporadic rutting like an animal in his desperation.

Demo can’t think. He can’t breathe. His mouth his open, his eyes are glazed, he can’t even register the sheets in his vision. Lights are sparking throughout his whole body, lighting up from his prick through his gut, hot in his chest and flowing in bright streams out of his eyes and mouth. His pleasure is so great it’s filling the room with a brilliant glow. He’s pretty sure this kind of bliss is the missing link between Earth and Heaven.

His orgasm hits him with the force of an atomic bomb, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him. His body tenses up and a choked gasp leaves him, but he’s so overworked he can’t get a single cry out.

Demo’s face is a thing of majesty. He’s never seen someone so utterly wrecked as Demo is right now. Combined with the way his body is twitching and clenching around him it’s an amazing feat that he manages to hold off his orgasm a few more seconds as he tries to fuck Demo through his own waves of bliss.

But sensation is hard to fight and soon his own orgasm overtakes him and he’s coming with a shout, thrusting shallowly into Demo’s body as he rides out the waves of pleasure that white out his vision.

For all intents and purposes, Engie really did make Demo pass out. His head is sideways, eyes half open, lips parted, his chest is heaving and his hands are limp beside him. He couldn’t speak if he tried. His mind is completely blank, his whole body is tingling with aftershocks like he’s been rubbed from head to foot with a balloon.

Engineer’s bones seem to turn to lead and he wants nothing more than to fall forward onto the other man and give his muscles a break. He feels good, muscle reverberations still making him twitch every few seconds, and the drowsiness of post-orgasmic bliss starting to settle in. Nothing sounds more appealing than falling asleep on top of Demo right now, but that hardly seems like a fair option.

Instead he forces himself to sit up enough to carefully pull out of the Scot’s body before slumping to the side, between the man and the wall.

Demo just lays there motionless for a while, but eventually he finds the strength to turn his head and face Engie. His lips curl into a small, lazy smile, and he closes his eyes. He can’t bring himself to speak out loud just yet. He’ll praise the other man in the morning.

He dredges his hand through the sheets until he finds Engie’s, and loops his fingers between the other man’s. He gives a hoarse little hum and a happy sigh. It’s pretty clear he doesn’t plan on moving for the rest of the night.

Engineer smiles and leans over to give Demo a soft kiss on the cheek before throwing an arm over him, just above the curve of his stomach, and settling down for bed.

"You said next time," he mumbles as sleep pulls him under. "I’m goin’ to hold you to that darlin’."


	7. Heavy

Engineer is untouchable.

He and Demo had a long talk about their arrangement and became unofficial lovers. And he wasn’t the only one. When Demo found out just what he’d been doing with Sniper, he wanted in immediately.

Engie thought he would die before ever getting the opportunity to feed two men at once. Watching them try to out eat each other would be the fuel of his daydreams for the rest of his mortal life.

Catching Demo fucking the daylights out of Sniper on hands and knees in his van, full belly wobbling underneath him, was even better.

Scout somehow found out, and he got jealous. Engineer might have had misgivings about sleeping with him because of his age, but apparently Sniper and Demo didn’t. It amazed him how Scout managed to maintain his heterosexuality the next day after Engie watched him take a cock in both ends.

Everything was perfect in his life. He’s pretty sure nothing could ruin his supreme good mood. Spy is finally speaking to him again, even if it’s only in short sentences. He can tell the Frenchman is curious about the arrangements he’s engaging in weekly. He never does ask about them, though. Engineer’s perfectly fine with waiting for him to get over his pride. He’ll welcome him into the flock in a heartbeat the day he asks.

Soldier starts joining the group sometimes for dinner. He never eats as much as he did that day, but he doesn’t make comments when anybody else does so his company is welcome.

Medic expressed an interest in some kind of eating contest to see who could eat the most, and the men were interested at first until they found out Medic was similarly interested in cutting them open after such a massive feast to see what they looked like on the inside. At that point a “No Medics Allowed” sign was posted on the clubhouse door for good.

Overall, Engie is positive that this is the best thing to ever happen to any one man on planet earth since the dawn of time. He’s so blessed. It must have been from all those years spent going to church every Sunday.

Things are definitely looking like they’re going Engineer’s way. Nothing can bring him down, even in the midst of battle he feels indestructible.

So he isn’t expecting it when Heavy pulls him aside in the hall one night, not long after most of the rest of the team has turned in for the night. Engie had been tinkering with his sentry designs in one of the rec rooms and lost track of time, only realizing how late it is when he looks up and everyone else is gone.

Or he thought everyone else was gone. Until a large hand comes out of nowhere and pulls him around a corner, leaving him face to face with the very large man.

"Heard about what you did with doktor," the Russian starts, his face and deep rumbling tone unreadable.

And just like that, all of the power that filled Engineer over the weeks leaks out of him through the bottom of his feet. He shrinks down against the wall, his shoulders drawing up to protect the sides of his neck.

He gives a weak chuckle and swallows hard. The nearest weapon to him is almost fifteen feet away. But to get to it he would have to get past the wall of man in front of him, and he already got a taste of just how strong the giant was when he manhandled him out of his chair without breaking a sweat.

“Is that right?” he clears his throat to keep his voice from cracking and he lifts his hands in surrender. “In my defense, he said he wanted it and you wouldn’t give it so it’s not really my fault.”

The heavy nods. “I know. Am not a fan of enemas. Seem dangerous to me. But doktor has not stopped talking about it since you fed him. Have never heard of doing this with food before.”

Engineer’s nostrils flare and his fists clench. Of course the doc would blab about it. Here he thought maybe what they did was sort of secret, but he felt the need to talk about it _with his lover_.

His eyes shift from side to side. The Heavy isn’t holding any weapons… but then again, he is sort of a weapon unto himself. He doesn’t seem particularly aggressive. He shrinks a little lower.

“…And?” he prompts. “I mean, why are you… you aren’t going to hurt me are ya cause you crowdin’ me into a corner wouldn’t really be a fair fight.”

"No. No, would not hurt you," Heavy says, looking a little sad. "Am not happy you and doktor did this without me. Would have liked to be present. But am not angry at you. Am punishing doktor with no sex. No, I am here with question."

Engineer’s head is spinning with questions. His whole body feels weightless with relief, dizzy and shaky. He’s not exactly helpless in a fight, but against Heavy he might as well forfeit before it even began.

“Well, I got an answer,” he forces a chuckle to try and lift the atmosphere between them. “Let’s see if they match.”

Heavy’s expression turns a little nervous. “Want to make doktor happy. And this makes him very happy. Too happy. But, I do not understand appeal. Want to understand so can make doktor as happy as you did.”

Engineer’s brows furrow. “You wanna… you wanna know about it? Well gosh I’m not exactly the authority on this sorta thing – in fact if you wanna talk about it you’d  be better off goin’ to Demoman, he knows more about it than I do. I’m sure he could tell you all about it, he’s been doing it for years.”

"You fed doktor, not Demoman," Heavy counters. "You made him happy. You know how. I want to know how and why. Want you to tell me, you were there. I was not. Demo was not."

Engie almost whimpers. He’d give anything to get out of there immediately. Being pinned to a wall under the bulk of Heavy is incredibly intimidating. All he has on his side is the Gunslinger. Heavy insists he doesn’t want to hurt him, but his body language says otherwise. He’s not really feeling up for lecturing a man who doesn’t even speak English well on a subject he doesn’t even understand himself all the way.

“I’m not sure I could tell you,” he says breathily, worried about getting a fist to the gut if he gives the wrong answer. “I’m sure it’s different for everyone. I could tell you why I like it but that ain’t gonna tell you why the doc likes it.”

"Then show me?" Heavy asks, almost pleading. He wants to please the Medic so desperately he’s willing to do almost anything. "Please. Want to do this for him."

“Show you?” Engie’s brows lift. “What, like you wanna ride along with me when I feed one of the other fellas? Your doc ain’t the only belly I’ve filled.”

"I know. Have seen you with Demo and Sniper and others. But do not want to see them. Medic will not like that." Heavy says, shaking his head. "What about you? You eat too, da?"

Engineer’s face lights up red. “Ah, no, not really,” he stammers. “I’ve never really, I mean, that’s not really the – the end I prefer.”

Heavy looks sad and starts to step back. “I see. Thank you for time then. Am sorry for bothering you.”

Engineer frowns as the Heavy turns to leave. He’s never seen him look sad like that before. He’s always been such a jovial man, whenever he sees him across the battlefield or across the mess hall.

“Hold up a second,” he says. Heavy turns around almost too eagerly. “If you want me to show you, I could… I could cook for you.”

Heavy’s face falls. “I do not think so. Does not seem possible, I am already very big man. I do not think I can get bigger.”

“Everyone’s gotta have a limit somewhere,” Engineer gives a little, hopeful smile. “If you really wanna understand, there ain’t no better way than to find out first-hand, right? If anybody could cook enough to fill you up it’s me. I’ve got lots of practice.”

"You do not understand how much I eat. Have eaten whole bear before and had room for seconds." Heavy explains sadly. "You will need to cook many, many meals. And that is just to sate hunger."

Engie laughs. “A whole bear, is that right? Well, that sounds like a challenge, my friend. I once helped cook for my family reunion, food for almost a hundred. Bet I could cook enough to put you down.”

"During war? When will you have time with all the fighting? Does not seem possible." Heavy says, crossing his arms. It’s an intriguing thought though. He’s never been allowed to eat to excess before. "But if you think can be done, then I will try. Will see what happens."

“I can get time off the fighting to work on projects basically whenever I ask. Between cooking I’ll work on my new dispenser details. It’ll be like a vacation, I’ll be doing the two things I love most. I’d need a while to prepare though, feasts don’t come quick,” Engineer crosses his arms thoughtfully to mirror the bigger man’s stance.

"Da, I understand. Will give you one week." Heavy agrees, looking relieved. "Thank you friend. Will return kindness in some way. But, do not tell doktor of this. Can not know."

“I won’t say a word,” Engineer says wearily, raising his hands again. “I’ve had about enough drama already.”

"Good." Heavy said, his face breaking out into a large smile. He reaches forward and suddenly lifts the Texan into a tight hug. "Thank you for help! Will not forget this!"

Engineer wobbles on his feet as Heavy lumbers off, and he grabs the wall to keep from collapsing. He exhales heavily and stumbles back to the rec room to collapse into a chair. He can hardly believe what he’s just gotten himself into. He’d had the help of four other people when he was cooking for his family reunion. Cooking to fill up Heavy is going to be a colossal task, and he only has a week. He has to start immediately.

The family-owned supermarket in the nearest town knows him by name at this point. They always get excited when he comes in, because he usually drops a couple hundred dollars without trouble, and they always carry his bags to his truck for him. As far as they know, he’s responsible for the shopping for team cookouts they have back on the base. They seem about ready to open a wing in his honor when he buys $1,800 worth of groceries in this one trip. Thank the lord for handsome salaries from Redmond Mann.

Getting time off to “work on his dispenser designs” is easy. He borrows an old record player from a rec room to give himself music to work to, because this is going to be one hell of an undertaking. The other fellas required a day or so of cooking, but this is a whole other beast. He has to cook to fill a man who could probably eat one of the other mercenaries whole.

At least it’s fun. He invites a few of the others down during the week to sample for him and keep him company. Sniper polishes his rifle in between bites given to him of various entrees and sides, and he eventually drags the Engineer to bed for a quick romp an a few hours of sleep.

Demo visits and dances with him to the more upbeat songs on his records, and the loud Jazz attracts the attention of Soldier, who is happy to sample the dishes as well. It’s almost like he’s hosting a party when Scout shows up too and brings with him a recipe for french fries that Dell makes good on immediately.

Spy turns his nose up at the group when he sees them chatting loudly in the mess hall, until Dell invites him to come back to his basement one night for food and company. Remarkably, it’s Soldier who convinces him to come along with.

When he’s sitting around the basement surrounded by his friends (and Spy) he remembers why he does this. He feels so loved he could cry.

Demo, Sniper, Soldier and Scout all stay behind to sleep in a pile, dragging Engie’s blankets on the floor to nest together, and they eventually pull him down to lay in the middle. There’s a hand on every part of him, his chest and shoulders, his hands and legs, his neck and belly. He wonders if it’s possible to be in love with four people at once.  

He doesn’t actually get much work done on his dispenser designs, but he can’t really be bothered with that. By the end of the week, he has to clear off a second desk to fit all the food, and he’s not even through quite yet. There are a few things still cooking, but hopefully what’s already done will buy him some time for the final few dishes to finish.

Heavy has trouble convincing Medic to let him leave their shared bedroom at the end of the week. They haven’t been sleeping together as Heavy made his annoyance known at Medic’s secret romp with Engineer but they’ve still spent every night together. He’d promised him their celibacy would end tonight and after a long day and a few bullet wounds Medic is too eager to get him into bed.

He had to lie and say he needed to go out for parts for his gun and will be gone for a few hours to get away, leaving an angry doctor behind that he knows he’ll have to deal with when he gets back.

Still, it’ll be worth it if he can figure out what it is about this that his lover likes so much. Then maybe they can do it together.

He gets down to Engineer’s room a little before dinner in the mess hall is supposed to start. He’s halfway down the stairs when he starts to smell the food. He isn’t sure what it all is but there’s meat and sweets and something buttery that has his mouth watering by the time he gets to the door.

Engineer is humming along to the record player when the polite tap of Heavy’s boot against the concrete threshold to his basement lair breaks him out of his day dreams.

“Ah, you made it just on time,” Engie smiles and turns down the music. He still has a light yellow apron wound around his waist and over his neck, and a red oven mitt decorated with white spots over his organic hand. “Come on in.”

“Nice mitt,” Heavy tries not to smile too wide.

“Sniper made it for me,” Engineer’s cheeks light up and he grabs it off to toss on the bed. He clears his throat and gestures for the table. “This ain’t even everything, there’s still a couple things in the works, but I hope this will be enough to start you out.”

There is meat on the table. Ham, ribs, something that looks like fish, crabs and more that Heavy doesn’t even recognize. Next to that there’s a basket of warm garlic bread, a heaping pile of fresh french fries, homemade macaroni and cheese that looks like it has enough cheese on it to give a lesser man a heart attack with one bite, and more desserts than he knows how to deal with. All of it looks perfect and Heavy hardly knows where to start.

"When you make meal, you really make meal," he says approvingly. "Is amazing. And smells good too. You must be great chef when not killing for money."

Engineer shrugs with a humble little laugh and tucks his hands into the big pockets on the apron. “I’ve been told,” he scuffs his boot on the concrete floor. “Don’t waste your time just talkin’ about it for corn’s sake, you ain’t gonna learn squat that way. Make yourself comfortable and if you’ve got any questions about any of the food lemme know.”

"Do not know what these are." he says, gesturing to a platter of enchiladas on the table as he takes his seat. "Or those," he points to some hush puppies. "This looks like chicken, but have not seen it cooked like this." He nods to the crispy fried chicken, fresh out of the frier and still greasy a little ways down the line.

“Don’t worry about a thing, if you don’t like any of it there’s more in the works. But you don’t seem like a picky eater, exactly,” the Engineer pulls Heavy’s chair back for him with a smile. “I fixed plates up for the other fellas, do you want me to do that for you or do you wanna handle it?”

"You know more about food than me." Heavy says, shrugging his massive shoulders. Honestly all the food is overwhelming. He’s not used to choices like this. Back home they have bear, sometimes meat from the butcher if they’re feeling fancy, and a side dish. The mess hall hands out all his meals for him, pre-decided and his sandwiches all have the same ingredients. This is something he’s never encountered before.

Engineer grins “Ever had a Po’boy?” he asks, slipping his mitt back on to pull a tray of long toasted rolls out of the oven. “I figured it’d be a nice place to start since it’s sorta familiar. I know how much you love sandwiches.” He sets the tray within reach, along with several other plates full of ingredients. “Got yourself some fried oysters here, gulf shrimp, some redfish fillets, fried softshell crab, and then you pile on the lettuce and tomato to your heart’s content and – well, I dunno if you’ll like this, it’s called remoulade. It’s made with horseradish, paprika, pickles, it’s just a whole slew of things. Kinda tangy. Supposed to go on that kinda sandwich but it’s up to you.”

"Horseradish and pickles I enjoy. Do not know about other things. Have not had much seafood in Siberia." Heavy laughs, looking at the plates of food Engineer set before him. Still he starts building a few sandwiches, taking a little bit of everything in different combinations. The sandwiches are thicker than the ones he usually makes but still small enough to fit in one of his massive hands.

He takes his first bite and is treated to a mouthful of delicious shrimp, crisp lettuce, tomato and tangy remoulade sauce that he decides right away he loves. Never one to hide his appreciation for good food he allows himself a content little hum as he swallows down the first delicious mouthful.

Engineer is already almost vibrating with excitement. He’s not sure if they will succeed in what they’re trying for tonight, but he knows if nothing else, he’s going to give the man better food than he’s ever had in his life.

He pours a giant pint of milk into a cask he usually reserves for alcohol, almost half a gallon. He hefts it onto the table beside the giant man and takes up a spot at the stove to stir a giant pot of baked beans that aren’t quite finished.

“So have you _ever_ eaten enough to be really full before?” Engineer asks, trying to open up friendly conversation between them. He’s never spent any time with Heavy off the field, and then the only time they ever interact is when Heavy plants himself by one of his dispensers to keep himself stocked with bullets for his gun, and they don’t talk much then.

Heavy swallows down the last bite of his first Po’boy before he answers with an enthusiastic shake of his head. “One time. Had eating contest with oldest little sister. Mother gave us half helpings for week afterwards as punishment but for few hours was truly full for first time.”

“One time,” Engie repeats, his stirring spoon slowing to a standstill. “ _One_ time? In your whole life? Are you serious?”

Heavy shrugs as he digs into his second sandwich, this time with crab but none of the amazing sauce. He quickly remedies that and uses the time to answer Engineer.

"Do not have much money before I come to war. For long time lived in gulag and were not given much food. Home we hunt for most of food. Not much grows where we live so vegetables are not common. Have much bread and bear meat must be saved to last long time so we do not starve. Portions were small before I come to war and make money."

“And then what, you just got in the habit of never eating until full by the time you got here?” Engineer resumes his stirring with a little chuckle. “You know the money you get you can spend on whatever you want.”

“Spend some of it on food,” Heavy wipes his face with the napkin provided to him. “Enough so I do not starve with tiny portions in mess hall. Rest goes home to mother and sisters.”

Engineer’s face creases into a smile. Maybe there’s more to Heavy than bloodshed and giant weapons. “Well in that case I’m honored to give you the feast of your life. You let me know when you’re done with sandwiches and I’ll fix you up something else.”

"Can never tire of sandwiches." Heavy says with a smile, lifting the second, almost finished po’boy into the air as if toasting the Engineer with it. "Sandwiches are perfect food. Fit in hand, can take into battle, and can be eaten fast so no one can take away. Is a good food. But do want to try the rest before gets cold. Ham looks very good. Have not had ham that was not on sandwich in very long time."

Engineer puts the pot back on simmer to put everything together for Heavy. Normally with the other guys he’d just put a little bit of everything on a plate, but he gets the feeling that Heavy would finish a plate in the time it would take him to walk back to the stove.

So he hauls the ham closer and cuts a few easy to eat slices free of the giant hunk of warm, honey-glazed meat. He clears a space beside it for the bowl of mac and cheese and sticks a spoon right into it, and sets the garlic bread down on the other side along with the french fries.

Heavy can’t help but laugh around the mess of bread, crab meat and vegetables in his mouth as Engineer brings everything within reach.

"I thought you said you make up plate. Did not realize table was plate and am expected to eat right out of serving bowls." he says, looking around at everything. It all looks so amazing that he doesn’t know where to start.  "If mother could see this, would weep. Should send you back to Russia to cook for her," he says happily.

“Plates are an option if you really want one,” Engineer chuckles nervously. “But it’d probably be quicker and less exhausting to just eat outta the dishes. You get the leftovers, anyway. Well, assuming there will be any.”

"Will try to keep some. Will eat less of what is best and send home for sisters," Heavy says with a nod. He spears a slice of ham onto his fork and brings it to his lips.

The first bite is heaven. The ham is warm and juicy from cooking, salty with a touch of smokiness from when it was cured. It’s maple ham and Heavy can taste the notes of sweetness that perfectly offset the natural salt. He closes his eyes as he savors the taste of something that isn’t mess hall mystery meat.

Engineer swells with pride, watching Heavy eat. He seems to genuinely and individually appreciate every single bite he takes. It’s like he’s eating for the first time in his life, and it almost like he really is.

He’s almost bouncing on his feet as he returns to his beans and tests them. Perfectly cooked, and with leftover chunks of brisket heaped into the pot generously. Demo got a good deal of the leftovers, but there’s only so much meat a man can eat. Maybe he shouldn’t have sprung for a ten-pound hunk of meat, but then again it brought fantastic flavor to the baked beans.

He ladles a liberal portion into a big porcelain bowl and sets it down on the table. Once Heavy’s giant mug is topped off, he hurries back to the stove to check on the whole chicken he’s been slow roasting for hours.

Heavy finishes off his first hunk of the delicious ham and follows it up with a spoonful of the mac and cheese. He was right about how cheesy it was. Engineer must have used at least four types of cheeses, all melted together in one delicious gooey mess mixed with noodles and topped with toasted breadcrumbs that give it a little crunch. Each noodle seems to be filled with cheese so every bite sends more oozing onto his tongue. It’s an absolute delight and Heavy follows up the first spoonful with another and another.

He’s finishing off his third spoonful when his eyes land on the garlic bread. It’s yellow with butter and sprinkled with garlic and looks soft and warm. He isn’t done chewing before he’s reaching for a few slices.

There’s no time for talking now. He’s completely absorbed in the meal. Every bite is heaven and he has to remind himself to slow down to keep from choking. He’s used to grabbing and eating whatever he can as fast as he can so he can go back for seconds before his sisters or the other mercs. But this, this is all for him and the thought sends a wave of warm contentment spreading through him.

Engie turns the volume back up on the record player to fill the comfortable silence with some noise other than the omnipresent clanking of the machinery that warms his basement dwelling up. He entertains Heavy with a little bit of awkward dancing and singing along to the music, and explains some of the words in the lyrics when Heavy doesn’t understand them.

They get a few words of conversation in between Heavy’s eating. Engie learns the names of his sisters, and Heavy learns exactly how many degrees Engie has and what for. Heavy finds out that Engineer can play guitar, and Dell learns in turn that Heavy knows how to sing opera.

The more he learns about Heavy, the more he likes him. And the more he understands why anyone would want to be in a relationship with him despite his intimidating size and nature. And as they while away the minutes with idle chatter, Heavy just keeps eating. His pace doesn’t even falter for a second, it gets to the point that Engineer almost forgets he was eating at all because he was just so fluid.

Heavy works his way through four slices of ham, almost half of the mac and cheese and a generous cut of the beans before turning his attention to the rest of the table. There’s fried chicken within reach that he makes a grab for, starting with a warm, crispy drumstick. It’s perfectly cooked, the outer skin salty and a little greasy and wonderfully flaky. It practically falls off the bone in his mouth. He finishes it in seconds and follows with another and a wing.

There’s so many flavors he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. Food he’s used to is bland and tough, more sinew and grilse than actual meat. Engineer’s food is like something from a dream in comparison. It’s almost too good to be true.

If it were purely about flavor he’s completely understand Medic’s fascination with the Texan’s cooking. But there’s something else to it, something he isn’t feeling yet. In fact he isn’t feeling anything but hungry. Hungrier than he’s ever been, like the blandness of the food he’s been eating and the small portions he’s been given his whole life have made his body forget how to be hungry.

Watching Heavy’s cautious interest flower into genuine pleasure is a beautiful thing to witness. He watches from the side as the tension leaves Heavy’s giant frame. He sees Heavy’s eyes close and hears him hum; he sees him for every inch of the man he is. He’s spent his whole life suffering in silence to be fair to others. This is the first real time in his life that he can finally enjoy something all for himself.

Heavy is the most giving sort of man. Engineer has seen the way he shares his sandwiches on the field with anybody who looks like they need it, when he could horde them all for himself. There’s no doubt he could eat all of them, too. To be the man to finally give something back to the selfless giant makes Engineer’s heart flutter.

“How’s everything going big guy?”  he pats Heavy’s upper arm so he doesn’t startle the rapt man as he rearranges a few things on the table. He situates the racks of ribs within reach and sets the hush puppies beside them, scooting the french fries closer as well.

Heavy hums around a mouthful of macaroni and cheese and ham, refusing to swallow and lose the flavor too soon simply to answer the man. He chews slowly, savoring it for as long as he can before he swallows down the delicious morsels.

"You are amazing chef." He praises, grinning at Engie. "Is all good so far. Have never had anything so tasty."

“How full do you usually get on the meals you eat day to day?” Engineer asks as he goes back to check on the chicken in the oven.

“Am not sure what you mean,” Heavy says as he uses a broken bone to pick a garlic skin out of his teeth.

Engineer frowns as he tries to think of a way around the language barrier. “Scale of one to ten.

Misha looks thoughtful for a moment before answering, “Five or six.” with a nod, as if agreeing with himself.

He’s never really thought about it before but upon reflection he supposes he’s never been truly full. He always leaves meals still a little hungry. He clears his plate two or three times but there’s always room for more. He simply never wants to seem greedy by eating so much more than everyone else.

Engie gives a low whistle as he pulls the finished chicken out of the oven and peels the foil off the top. He can’t imagine what it must be like to go through his whole life always feeling half hungry. He knows if he had to experience it, he would probably go crazy and end up killing someone and eating them. He sets the chicken on the table and drapes the mitt over his shoulder. “Well let’s shoot past ten, shall we?”

Heavy only grins and picks up a fork that is much too small in his almost inhumanly large hands. He has his doubts that the Engineer will be able to fill him up as much as he says but as long as there’s food in front of him he’ll keep eating.

He spears the side of the chicken with the fork and rips away a good chunk of meat.

The first bite is delicious. The chicken has been slow roasted on a rotisserie, leaving the meat moist and tender, so different from the bland, dry chicken they serve in the mess hall and whatever rub Engineer used to season the meat is unlike anything Heavy has ever tasted. He groans appreciatively around the poultry rolling over his tongue and doesn’t stop to offer praise before reaching for his second bite, this time tearing away a wing so he can suck every bite of meat off the bone.

Engineer turns the bowl of mac and cheese so the half that remains is nearest to Heavy, and cuts a few more slices of ham off the hunk. He drizzles a little extra barbeque sauce over the ribs and puts the enchiladas within reach beside the heaps of side dishes.

Heavy is like an unstoppable force. He’s never seen any man eat like this, without missing a beat. He’s not even sure Heavy is taking the time to breathe between bites.

The giant attacks the ribs next, gnawing on one of the racks until only a stack of white bones smeared with sauce is left. His face is a sweet sticky mess but he barely takes the time to wipe his hand over his mouth before he moves on to a helping of garlic bread with a slice of ham on top because, well why not? It’s all going to the same place anyway.

By the time he finishes that and another fourth of the mac and cheese he’s starting to feel his stopping place. He’s still hungry but he’s getting to the point where the hunger is normal again. It’s the sort of hunger he experiences everyday and barely notices anymore. Were they in the mess hall this would be just about the end of his third helping and he’d get up and put his tray with the other empty ones and leave, satisfied if not truly sated.

He can’t help being a little giddy at the thought of not stopping now. There’s no need to stop or even slow down today. He can eat and eat, fourth and fifth helpings if he chooses. And no one is going to laugh or call him fat or greedy. In fact, the only person around to see him WANTS him to keep eating.

Whenever he looks over at the Engineer, the Texan’s expression is soft and pleased. He’ll look away quickly as soon as he realizes that Heavy is looking at him, his cheeks turning pink. It makes the big man swell with a feeling he can’t really identify. He feels accepted, understood in a way he hasn’t ever been. He knows Engie wouldn’t dream of teasing him.

When he prompts the smaller man to talk about why he likes this, Engineer draws a blank. He puffs out his cheeks and scuffles his feet and blows air out his nose. He sits up on a free corner of the desk, swinging his boots against the side. His feet don’t reach the floor.

“Well… I dunno,” he spins the garlic bread dish so the bulk of the bread faces the other man. “Shoot, I never really had to talk about it. I don’t even really try to think about it. I just like the way fellas looks stuffed they can’t move. I guess part of it might be a control thing, but mostly I just love to cook, and I love to watch people eat. I think it’s… beautiful, I guess.” He kicks his feet and looks down at his hands, screwing his mouth up to one side.

"Is it only food?" Heavy asks, taking a short break to decide if he wants more ribs or more chicken. Or maybe try braving the enchiladas. "You enjoy watching men eat or seeing them big? Is it process you enjoy or only result?"

“Both,” Engineer says, he doesn’t even have to think about that one. “The anticipation  builds when I watch them eat. But it was just as nice when I walked in on Medic – I mean, oh, damn, I’m sorry, dammit.” He jumps off the desk with a grimace.

Heavy’s smile drops a little but he just shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry for. You did not mean to see. And he is beautiful, even when not indulging in fetish. You saw him in way that you love to see men. Of course you wanted him.” He tears more chicken off the bone and follows it with the last of the beans. The combination of flavors is delicious and by the time he’s done he’s smiling full force again.

Engineer clears away the empty pot of beans with a frown. He looks over across the food again with a sigh, Heavy’s disquiet reminds him that he’s doing this for the Medic. Sure, he’s enthusiastic in part to eat this much, but the whole thing started because of his desire to please his lover.

“You’re really in love with him, ain’tcha?” Engie asks, leaning back against the desk.

"Da!" Heavy says, this time not bothering to be polite and speaking with  a mouth full of ribs. "Love doktor more than anyone except mother and sisters. Would do anything for him."

“Even this,” Engie crosses his arms casually and indicates the food with his chin. “Though it probably ain’t exactly a hard thing to do, I’m bettin’.”

He turns away to check on a churn he built in the corner of the room to hide his frown. Heavy is so enthusiastic and open with his declarations of love, it’s heartbreaking and endearing at the same time. Considering Medic was more than willing to have another man intimately, he can’t help but wonder if their relationship is one-sided.

Resolute, he swears on his grandma’s grave that he’ll help Heavy in every way he can to understand this outlandish fetish if it means Medic might appreciate their relationship even more.

Heavy finishes off another rack of ribs and he’s starting to feel comfortably full. There’s room for more, no doubt, but this is about as much as he’d eaten during his eating contest with his sister when they were children, the very first time he’d ever eaten until he was full. He’s grown since then and can easily keep eating but there’s a remembered feeling of satisfaction that came from being this full last time that makes him beam with pride.

He reaches for the corn on the cob that Engineer set down a little while before. The ear is absolutely smothered in melted butter and it drips all over his fingers as he raises the vegetable to his lips and begins to eat down the row like a typewriter. The saltiness of the butter is a perfect compliment to the sweetness of the corn and he thinks he could eat this with every meal for the rest of his life if he was given the chance.

“Ah, that goes with these, partner,” Engineer sets a dish down in front of Heavy. It’s piled with whole crawfish, bright red and steaming, heaped on top of more corn on the cobb cut into segments, fat slices of sausage links, and red potatoes. “That’s just the extra. Here, lemme show you how to crack ‘em open.” He breaks open the first crawfish to demonstrate how the meat practically jumps out of its shells, its so perfectly cooked.

Heavy looks at the tiny crawfish in confusion. “What is it? Looks like baby lobster. Does it taste like baby lobster?”

He takes the open crawfish from Engie and sucks the meat out of the shell. It does sort of taste like lobster, though the meat is a little more on the chewy side.

"Is good. Whatever it is."

“Crawfish. Andouille sausage, potatoes, corn, it’s all cooked together so it all kinda holds the same flavors,” Engie puts his hands on his hips with a smile. “Don’t forget to leave room for dessert, too. Got more’n I’d know what to do with if you fill up before you eat some of it.”

Heavy smiles and leans back in his chair to pat his belly. “Have no fear my friend. Have plenty of room for dessert. Am barely feeling full yet. Could eat all this corn, and crawfish and sausage and still eat whole cake with ice cream.”

The instant Heavy sits back, his ears start ringing and he doesn’t hear a word. He’s captivated by Heavy’s body. He’s never really spent much time looking at the man’s _body_ , he’s always been blinded by his giant gun. Looking at him now, free of his shrouding bandolier and bulky vest, he can see the way his red shirt clings to his giant frame, he feels instantly and devastatingly warm. 

He’s not sure how the sleeves are holing in the enormity of Heavy’s biceps, they look like they could rip right up the seams if he flexed even an inch. The fabric strains across his built chest, which looks just soft enough to have a little give that would be perfect to sink teeth or fingers into. The collar is having a hard time of containing his tree-trunk neck, with its strong tendons and ridged collarbone – is that a hickey? The masterpiece of Heavy’s body, however, is his stocky stomach. Engie isn’t sure why he hears so many fat jokes at Heavy’s expense, he’s pretty sure comparatively _he_ has more belly fat than Heavy does. He’s by no means flat, there’s a definite curve to his stomach and a slight paunch rolling over his pants that he’s sure would stretch out and sit higher if he stood up. But he’s not nearly as fat as the scouts always loudly ridicule him for being. He could probably stand to have a little more fat on his gut, if you asked Engie.

He doesn’t realize just how long he’s been staring, lips parted and eyes wide and cheeks red.

Heavy doesn’t mind the way Engineer is looking at his body. In fact, he thinks it’s rather flattering. The only other person who ever looks at him with that sort of arousal is Medic and usually that’s only when he’s naked. He’s never felt so beautiful clothed as he does now under Engineer’s gaze.

"You do like big men," he says matter of factly. "Were not lying."

Engineer flinches so strong he almost falls over. His face lights up red from his forehead to his chest and he splutters an apology and he busies himself with the churn in the corner again.

"Do not apologize. Is nice to be appreciated." Heavy laughs. He licks the melted butter off his fingers one by one, looking over to see if Engie is watching before grabbing another ear of corn. It’s as delicious as the last and he makes a note to ask the Texan to make it for him at least once a week until the war is over.

Engineer looks him over again with confusion. Nobody sucks on their fingers like that unintentionally. That was a very deliberate come-on. He can’t help but wonder if he’s going to be used as some kind of revenge against the Medic. Did Medic mention the fact that they didn’t, technically, have sex?

He swallows hard and finally sinks down into an extra chair, content to just sit comfortably with polite conversation until Heavy needs him again.

Heavy finishes the corn in no time and starts working on the sausage and crawfish. The crawfish are relatively sweet, especially compared to the spicy sausage. A few bites have the Heavy coughing, his tongue burning from the hot peppers mixed in with the sausage meat.

“Oh lordy, I’m sorry,” Engineer bounces out of his seat to refill Heavy’s tankard with milk. He stands back in awe when he tips the giant mug back and starts to drink without taking a breath. He exposes the full length of his muscular neck, and Engie is captivated by the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He wonders how Heavy feels, gulping down mouthfuls of milk after already having eaten so much. He wonders if he feels tight yet, if he’s starting to feel a stretch or if he still has room to fill. Will Heavy like the sensation of eating past full? Of indulging until he can’t even breathe? What will he even look like? A man of his size, eating so much, he’ll be colossal.

By the time Heavy puts down his tankard, Engie is bent over the desk with both hands on the surface, his lip bitten between his teeth to keep any embarrassing noises from leaking out.

Completely oblivious to Engie’s plight Heavy leans back in his chair again, taking deep gulping breathes to soothe his burning mouth. As he breathes he rubs a hand over his belly. He’s definitely feeling full now. Very full. Fuller than he’s ever had a chance to be before. He feels warm and his belly is starting to feel a little heavy with food and maybe a tiny bit bigger than it had when he’d first arrived. If he hadn’t promised to see this through to the end he’d stop now.

But he can eat more. And he has a challenge to live up to.

Engineer looks back up at Heavy when he finally braves one of the enchiladas. He’s glad he decided not to go with the _spicy_ recipe when he loads up a fork with gooey cheese, beef, seasoned tomato sauce and sour cream. His eyes widen at the combination of flavors and he instantly sets into finishing the rest of the first one, and then a second for good measure.

“Golly, you are just unstoppable,” Engie says breathlessly, massaging his fingers over his mouth anxiously as he tries to keep his excitement in check. When Heavy looks up at him with brows furrowed, he quickly holds his hands up. “I mean that in a good way – the best way possible, friend. I’m impressed by you. Really impressed. And maybe a little bit hot around the collar.”

"I am feeling effects." Heavy says, looking down at himself. He doesn’t look all that different to someone who doesn’t know him. But he can see the extra strain to his shirt and the way his belly hangs just a little bit more over his pants. "Is not a bad feeling. Is nice." he says as he starts digging into another enchilada. The meet is spicy but not painful, like the sausage. And now that he knows what to expect he can appreciate the play of the flavors and the perfect combination of all the ingredients as they combine over his tongue.

Engie is breathing a little heavier now. He grips the edge of his desk and licks his lips as he looks the man up and down. He can’t see a difference in him yet, but he desperately wants to. The tension waiting for it is enormous.

“You’re really startin’ to feel it?” he asks, his voice dipping a little lower. “You get to that place where you really feel every bite goin’ down, yet? You feel like every swallow’s makin’ you bigger? Feel it deep in your belly, feel it weighin’ you down? You said it couldn’t happen, you were sure it was impossible. How big do you think you can get? Are you curious to feel what it’s like to be so big you can’t stand? Curious to get so big, like you ain’t never even _dreamed_ of in your life?”

While he speaks he moves deliberately, slowly closing in on the bigger man. And if his quiet submissive stare is anything to go by, he’s no stranger to cowing to a dictating figure.

The sudden dominating vibes coming off Engie have the Heavy shifting in his seat, his cheeks burning red as his natural instinct to submit threatens to overwhelm him. He wants to sink to his knees in front of the man and let himself be used in whatever way the Engineer sees fit. Suddenly he isn’t just doing this to learn, but to please the man standing over him.

"I-I can get big, I think." he says, trying to remember all of Engineer’s demanding questions. "Bigger than others you have been with, am sure. Am already starting to get bigger. You want to feel?"

Engie doesn’t even try to smother the growl that rumbles out of him. He puts his hand to Heavy’s expansive midsection and presses to feel how tight he’s gotten. There’s still a comfortable cushioning layer, but beneath that he’s hard as a drum. He sinks his fingers in and groans at the same time Heavy does, his mechanical hand gripping the back of his chair so he can loom over the seated giant.

“I can feel it alright. How do _you_ feel, Mr. You-Can’t-Make-Enough-Food?” he demands, rubbing his palm in a slow, firm circle over Heavy’s stomach.

Heavy groans and arches his back, pressing his belly into Engineer’s hand. He likes the way it feels when he rubs his belly. It’s like he’s being praised for something, like he’s done well.

"I feel… full. For first time in very, very long time. I feel full." Heavy answers. "I am not hungry."

“I bet you could keep going,” the Engineer drawls, leaning in a little closer to tickle his nose behind Heavy’s ear. He hears the bigger man’s breath hitch, and braves a kiss to his temple that has a low noise rolling out of Heavy’s throat. “I bet you could eat until your belly hit the table. That’s why you’re here, ain’t it? You wanna know what the appeal is of bein’ so darn big, right? It ain’t anything I can tell you about, you gotta feel it for yourself.”

"Yes sir," Heavy answers before he can stop himself. The words just tumble out of his mouth, his natural reaction to being spoken to so authoritatively by an attractive man.

He wants more. He wants Engineer to force him to his knees and feed him. Feed him with his hand so he can lick the juices from his fingers between bites. He wants him to force his mouth open and feed him until he’s as big as Engie so clearly wants him to be, even when he’s full to the point it starts to hurt and he’s begging Engineer to stop.

Engineer raises his eyebrows at the title he’s suddenly been given. He realizes that this kind of reaction comes out of a trained man, and wonders what kind of shenanigans he and Medic get up to. He knows from personal experience just how dominating Medic can be, but it’s shocking to think that Heavy might be submissive.

 “Attaboy,” he praises anyway and pats the bigger man on the shoulder. If Heavy’s going to be submissive, well it’s only going to make all of this easier.

He decides to put together another sandwich for Heavy, with all the fixin’s. It’s dripping with sauce and bursting with seafood, and when he turns to tell Heavy it’s ready, he sees him sitting with his hands obediently by his side. He doesn’t make any move towards the food. Engineer smirks and grabs a knife to cut the long sub-length sandwich into more manageable pieces. He wants to be fed, and Engie is more than willing to feed him.

Engineer lifts the slice of sandwich to Heavy’s lips. The Russian obediently opens his mouth, allowing the Texan to slide the bite between his teeth. He closes his lips around the man’s fingers before they can withdraw and sucks the tangy sauce off them before allowing them to slip away.

He obediently chews the sandwich, which seems even more delicious after being fed to him by his stand-in dom. He swallows it down and bites back a small moan. He’s really feeling how full he is now. His belly isn’t used to having so much food in it and every bite is causing it to stretch just a little bit to accommodate the new addition. It’s a sensation he’s never experienced before but it’s hardly unpleasant.

Engineer feeds him through the entirety of the sandwich, which honestly is big enough to constitute a full meal in a normal-sized man. He pauses once the last bite goes down to give the big man another slow belly rub. He can barely feel the difference, but he knows there is one. He knows Heavy can feel it, at least, when the giant man tilts his head back with a groan.

The Texan isn’t going to let him off there, though. He cuts into another enchilada and fork-feeds the drippy food to the Heavy, and helps the rest of the garlic bread into him between bites of a second and third enchilada.

Heavy is really groaning by the time Engineer is hand-feeding him hush puppies one by one. Engie can finally see a difference, the seams running up the sides of Heavy’s shirt have pulled much tighter, and he can see the smallest sliver of skin down at the very bottom of his belly where the shirt has ridden up and can’t cover anymore.

He gives the giant a break with a few sips of milk from the giant tankard and starts to massage his achy belly again. “I’d say you’re finally properly stuffed, even if only just a little bit,” Engineer hums, sinking his fingers past the pillowy layer of fat into rock-solid stomach. 

Heavy groans and lifts a hand to rub the bottom of his large belly. He’s never felt like this before. He feels warm and full and content, his belly heavy with delicious food and his dom heaping praises on him, he couldn’t be happier unless Medic was here.

"Feel like snake after swallowing rat. Stretched too big, but is nice feeling." Heavy says happily, his voice even lower than usual.

“Do you wanna take your shirt off or leave in on for now? Eventually you’re not gonna want it anymore, but the bigger you get the harder it might be to get it off,” Engineer prompts. He tries not to be so obvious in his desire to get Heavy’s clothes off.

"You want me to take shirt off?" Heavy asks. He lifts a hand before Engineer can answer to silence him. "Sorry but, do not say. Do not ask. Tell me what to do and I do it."

Engineer hums again in thought. He tries to remember his college days, back when he was interested in rope play for a couple years. He never had sex with any of the men or women he tied up, he never really wanted to. He was just interested in the knots and the way a single length of rope could be fashioned into intricate harnesses. But he does remember the way the people he tied up were always eager to obey.

He narrows his eyes with a cheeky smile. “Alright, leave it on for now,” he says. As much as he wants to see Heavy shirtless – and now he knows he will, eventually – he wants even more to watch the giant’s discomfort as the shirt grows tighter and tighter. And, hopefully, he would beg to be allowed to take it off.

Piling together another sandwich, he sees a length of extension cord in the corner and feels a thrill rush through him. He looks back over at Heavy, and then back at the cord.

“How do you feel about gettin’ tied up?”

Heavy nearly whimpers. His hands snap back behind his back, his wrists crossing. It throws off his center of balance a little and he has to arch forward, pressing his belly out as if presenting it for inspection.

"Please," he begs. "Tie me up, sir. Please."

Engineer wasn’t sure he’d like being called sir, but the more he hears it, the more he likes it. It’s empowering, having his every word obeyed without question. And the fact that the man obeying him is easily two and a half times his size is only more exhilarating.

He takes the length of extension cord and winds it in an easy harness around Heavy’s giant wrists, crossing it in both directions so even if he tried to escape, he’d only use his own strength against himself. He loops the cord over the top of his belly and the other end beneath it, crossing them in giant x’s on either hip before bringing both ends up and around Heavy’s throat in a loose collar. By the time he ties the cord off with a little length to spare on the nape of his neck, Heavy is openly panting and shaking.

“Got yourself a little flustered there, didn’tya?” Engineer grips the soft layer of fat at the bottom of Heavy’s belly with strong fingers and earns an unbidden yelp from the giant. He teases the skin on either side of the pressing cord with light touches.

"Da," Heavy pants, straining against his bonds to seek out more of Engie’s touch. He wants to be touched. He wants to be pinched and groped and slapped until he can’t take it anymore. He wants Engineer to abuse him in every possible way.

And he wants to be fed. He wants to be fed more and more until he can’t take another bite. He wants to be so big Engineer has to hold him by his belly to keep him from toppling over under its weight. He wants to please, and he knows eating until he’s truly stuffed is the way to do it.

Engineer feeds Heavy another Po’boy without giving him much room to breathe between bites. Sometimes he’ll even force a little more into Heavy’s mouth than he can actually handle, and bits of lettuce or droplets of dressing will fall onto his chest. Heavy gurgles and chokes when Engineer crams food into his mouth, but moans with earnest as soon as his mouth is free again. His stomach continues to grow as the monstrous sandwich is forced into him, pressing past the constricting cords and filling out his shirt even when it has no more room to grow.

He takes mercy on the giant when the last bite of the sandwich is gone, and he’s arched over the back of the chair quaking and panting and whimpering and groaning. His lips are red and swollen, his forehead is shiny with sweat, and his belly is giving one hell of a fight against his shirt.

Grabbing the remaining mac and cheese with his mechanical hand, he begins to finger-feed the remaining noodles to the Heavy. He can’t give him very large bites, so it gives the aching man the reprieve he needs from the rapid-fire pace of the sandwich.

The small bites of the creamy, cheesy noodles are exactly what the doctor ordered. The bites go down easily, slipping down Heavy’s throat into his belly with little effort. He gets a chance to breathe between bites and every gasp makes his belly heave and expand, testing the already strained seams of his too tight shirt.

Engie crumbles the rest of the hush puppies into the mac and cheese to give it crunch and variety. Heavy appreciates the added texture to give him something to really chew before sending it down to join everything else. When he sucks the last bite of cheese off the Engineer’s fingers, he’s rewarded with another firm tummy massage and a peppering of wet kisses on his throat.

“God in Heaven, you are gorgeous,” Engie growls, filling his palm with the bottom of Heavy’s belly. “Tell me, does your belt hurt yet?”

"Da." the Heavy answers, panting. He whimpers a little as cramps start to set in, making him tug on his bonds in an attempt to free his hands to soothe them away. He doesn’t really want to be released, but hopefully the action will alert his dom to his needs.

But despite the pain he is enjoying himself. He’s always been rather proud of his impressive size but this is something new entirely. He’s no longer just big, he’s giant. He’s every bit the fat monster everyone has always said he is and he can’t help but feel a little smug. No other man could possibly be this big. No other man could grow like this and impress his dom like he has. It feels like an accomplishment, not just the results of a too large meal.

“Poor guy,” Engineer croons and massages the bottom of Heavy’s belly where the belt has started to cut in. “I bet you’d do just about anything for me to get this belt undone.”

“Anything,” Heavy’s stomach heaves with his breaths.

“Five enchiladas left. You finish them off, you get your belt undone,” Engineer sinks his fingers into Heavy’s belly tight enough to make him cry out.

Heavy’s cry turns into a pained groan and he nods his head enthusiastically, happy to know what he has to do to earn his reward.

"Will do it. Will eat for you." he says before opening his mouth, encouraging Engie to begin feeding him again.

The first enchilada isn’t hard. Engineer feeds him, gentler than before but still fast, barely giving him time to breathe between bites. The second is harder. He can feel every gooey bite hitting his stomach, stretching him and setting off fresh waves of cramps that have him moaning for his dom to take care of him. But he refuses to stop. He isn’t the sort to back down from a challenge, especially knowing there’s a reward waiting at the end.

The third and fourth are agony. His belt feels so tight, he worries it’ll cut him right in half. He whines and whimpers and shivers and taps his feet in discomfort. The pain is overwhelming, but despite it all he’s so aroused he can hardly see straight.

“О Боже!” Heavy shouts when the Engineer takes another fistful of his belly. He’s probably going to have bruises, and the thought of having marks to remember this encounter by has the big man sweating.

“One more, tough guy, open up or your belt won’t,” Engie commands. He’s definitely getting the hang of this, and he _definitely_ likes it.

The Russian has tears in his eyes, both from the pain and humiliation of this situation and the joy that accompanies both feelings. There’s nothing he likes more than being thoroughly dominated, with words and deeds, and Engineer is performing spectacularly.

He opens his mouth as ordered and allows a too-large forkful to be shoved past his lips. It’s heavy and hot on his tongue and he’s almost crying as he chews but he swallows it down anyway. It hurts, oh does it hurt, but Heavy is every bit the masochist and the wealth of pain he’s in has him equally aroused.

Heavy doesn’t even seem to be aware anymore, he just opens his mouth for the next bite. Even when there isn’t another to give. Engie slips his thumb into Heavy’s mouth and the giant obediently sucks the sauce off his finger.

“You did it,” he praises and gives the other man a kiss to his neck. He kneels down in front of the Russian and pulls at his belt to free him. Heavy gives another cry when the belt has to be cinched just a hair tighter in order to free it from the hole.

The instant Heavy’s belt is free, the extra strain on his pants has his button popping clear off. Engineer has to duck to the left when the button pings off into the wall at bullet speeds. He doesn’t even have to touch the zipper, it’s forced open by the weight of Heavy’s huge belly.

“Lord have mercy,” Engie has to fan himself and adjust the growing problem in his trousers. “That was a sight.”

Heavy doesn’t even have the chance to ask if it was okay, if he did good, because Engie’s hands and mouth are on him. His mechanical hand isn’t as soft or warm as his organic hand, but the pinching pressure gives an edge of electric discomfort to the velvety feeling of the Texan’s tongue soothing the deep red line his pants cut into him.

Misha moans his pleasure and arches into the contact as best he can without falling off his chair. He wants Engineer to never stop touching him. He wants him to sooth away the painful lines left by his pants, his boxers, his shirt, everything. He wants him to rub and pinch wherever he can until they both can’t stand it any longer. He wants Engineer to strip him, force him across the table so his belly is pressed painfully against the hard wood surface while he fucks him.

It’s a desperate sort of wanting. Like a hunger, building to replace the one he’s so used to feeling in his stomach. Or maybe it’s to augment it, a hunger for Engineer building inside him so he can continue to eat as he’s been ordered to, to please the Texan.

Engineer takes pause when he sees the giant bulge contained (barely) by Heavy’s boxers and his mouth waters. He grabs for the waistband and a thrill shoots through him when he actually has to lift the bottom of Heavy’s belly to get a hold on it.

He jerks the elastic down below the Russian’s package without warning and almost makes a noise when he beholds the work of art that is Heavy’s cock. It’s not that it’s ridiculously long, he’s pretty sure Demoman’s cock was longer than his. But his prick is so heavy and fat, it barely looks real. It’s leaking at the tip, which is half covered by velvety foreskin.

Engineer almost leans in to taste, but he remembers how much Heavy enjoys being bossed around. He blows on the tip instead and bites his lip when his cock jumps of its own accord.

“Tell me you want it,” the Texan smirks expectantly up at the other man.

“I want it,” Heavy pants.

“Come on now, darlin’ if I wanted verbatim I’d’a got a parrot. I wanna hear it in your words,” Engineer wets his lips until they glisten to let Heavy know just what he’ll get if he obeys.

"Please, sir." Heavy begs, taking deep panting breaths that make his enormous belly heave and his dick bob as he shifts in his chair, seeking some kind of contact on his hard, heavy cock. "Touch me sir. Need to be touched or will explode. Am going to die, I want so badly. Sir please, will do anything you want."

“Please, you call zhat begging?”

Heavy’s eyes widen and a chill races down his spine. Engineer sits up so fast he clunks his head on the side of the desk with a yelp. He can’t even get to his feet before he sees the imposing figure of the Medic come strolling casually into the room.

His hands are folded behind his back, each hand gripping the opposite wrist. His shoulders are squared and his eyes are narrowed as he circles Heavy like prey. The Russian looks at once terrified and excited, shrunk down in his seat as far as he can manage.

Engie cowers back several feet. He’s not sure what the Medic is doing here, or how he’s going to react. He’s about as predictable as roulette, just because he was willing to be intimate with the Engineer doesn’t mean he can’t be furious that Heavy would do the same.

Medic looks over the table, at the empty dishes, and at Heavy’s swollen belly and hanging cock. He slams his boot down on the chair between the Russian’s spread legs, coming within millimeters of crushing his balls.

“ _Zhis_ is vhat you decide to leave me for zhe night for?” he demands, and presses the toe of his shiny boot past Heavy’s balls and against his perineum. “You _lied_ to me.”

Heavy’s head falls back, exposing his throat to his true master. He whimpers as Medic’s boot presses against him harder, going past pleasurable pressure towards pain.

"Da, doktor. I lied. Wanted… to surprise you," he pants between pained cries. "Asked Engineer to show me why you like this so much. Wanted to see and understand. To make you happy!"

Medic looks behind him again at the table. His brows furrow and he appraises Heavy’s gravid belly. His expression softens a fraction and he slides his boot back to give the Russian mercy.

“You ate all of zhis for _me?_ ”  he looks at the table again, at all of the empty dishes, and imagines what might have been in them that is now stuffed inside Heavy. He puts a hand to his chest. “Zhis is zhe most thoughtful thing anybody’s ever done for me.”

Engineer’s back is almost to the wall at this point. He wants to turn invisible. He still doesn’t know the Medic’s stance on the whole about-to-blow-his-boyfriend thing, and if he has a choice he’d rather get a head start on a snappy retreat than risk his wrath.

"Still, am sorry for lie, doktor." Heavy says, his head falling forward onto his chest, his tone remorseful. "Will you punish?”

“Of course I’m going to punish you,” Medic sounds almost cheerful, his hand hasn’t fallen from his chest yet.

He looks behind him one more time and makes eye contact with the Engineer, who looks like he’s trying to become one with the concrete wall.

“You really are a vonder,” he stalks towards the shorter man, grinning when he shrinks down. “First you help me vith my experiment, und now you help Heavy surprise me.”

“Gosh, I guess my givin’ nature knows no bounds,” Engie says anxiously.

“I vant you to help me punish him, though,” Medic continues without missing a beat. “It’s nothing against you of course, Heavy just needs to know how inappropriate it is for him to lie to me.”

“Wh-what do you want me to do, doc?” Engineer asks, his voice shaking.

“I see he hasn’t even touched dessert yet,” Medic smirks and crosses his arms as he looks at the table again. “Und I’m certain he can get bigger.”

"Doktor please, can not take it," Heavy begs, looking up at his master with wide, pleading eyes. He can play this game now, he can be the helpless sub who’s already been pushed too far, only to have his dom deny him mercy. He loves this part of their game and now with Medic here he can give himself over to this part entirely.

“Silence,” Medic’s voice cuts him like wire. “I don’t vant to hear vhat you can take, I only vant you to obey. If you can’t even take your punishment, you aren’t vorth anything.”

Heavy swallows hard and nods. “Yes sir. Will do as ordered doktor. Forgive me?”

“Not yet,” Medic approaches the table and starts to rearrange things, setting aside half-eaten entrees to make room for the battalion of desserts. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

Engineer isn’t sure what to do. He’s still pressed up against the wall, his whole body is vibrating with nervous energy. Medic isn’t angry with him, thank God. But he’s still expecting something out of him. At this point, he’s awaiting orders just as much as Heavy is.

Medic picks a caramel-smothered pecan off the top of a cheesecake and pops it in his mouth with a little hum. He’s not even sure what half these things are, but it doesn’t really matter what they are, as long as it all ends up inside Heavy.

With his punishment in place, Medic can really sit back and enjoy the view. He sits on a free corner of the desk and studies Heavy’s swayed back and engorged belly, hanging almost as low as his weeping cock. His biceps are bulging against the thick cord holding him in place, and the tendons in his neck stand out against the makeshift collar.

He crosses his legs and presses the sole of one boot into Heavy’s round belly, a little harder than feels good, just to hear him whimper.

“Tell me, Engineer,” he sits back and grinds the heel of his boot into Heavy’s bellybutton. “Vas he vell behaved? Vas he obedient?”

Caught off-guard, the Engineer stammers. “Well- sure, I mean – gosh, I – ”

Medic looks over his shoulder at the Texan with a disappointed frown and flicks his eyes in Heavy’s direction with an expectant eyebrow raise.

“Oh. He sure was,” Engie clears his throat and opens a fridge he built himself to check if his torte was set yet. “Takes orders like a pro.”

“Is zhat so? Did you enjoy taking orders from Herr Engineer?” Medic turns his attention back to the giant and folds his hands in his lap. He ceases grinding to give Heavy a chance to answer, but doesn’t ease up on the pressure just yet.

"Da. Engineer is good dom." Heavy gasps, his belly cramping painfully again. This time he knows he’ll have no relief. Medic isn’t going to rub him down to sooth him and Engineer is too afraid of Medic to touch him. He’ll just have to ride out the pain. "Not as good as you." he adds hastily. "Is good dom. But doktor is best dom."

Medic pulls back and jumps off the table. He circles around behind Heavy and yanks on the small length of cord tied at the back of his neck, tightening it around his throat and subsequently, his belly.

“Maybe you don’t even need me anymore, zhen,” he growls. “Maybe I should just give you to Engineer. I’ll give you to him and _he_ can use you like zhe slut you are. He’s got to be a lonely man vorking alone down here every night, I’m sure he could use a pet.”

Heavy whimpers and shakes his head. “No, doktor! Please, do not give me away. Will be better sub. Will do anything you want. Only want you, have only ever wanted you. You are my dom. Engineer was mistake.”

In the corner, Engineer’s mouth screws up into a frown.

Heavy looks towards the table and spies the desserts still sitting there. He can still prove his worth to his dom. He can still earn his place in Medic’s bed.

"Let me show you. Will eat every dessert, will get big for you. To show you I can still please you. Please doktor." he begs

“Of course you will, schatz,” Medic croons and grabs handfuls of Heavy’s belly. “And you’re going to do it vith zhis.” He reaches into his pocket with one hand and produces a very familiar red latex rubber ring.

Heavy shivers. He’s all too familiar with the ring in Medic’s hand. “Thank you doktor. Will make you proud. Swear on my life, will make you happy with your Heavy.”

“You’re very velcome,” Medic smiles sneeringly and goes down on his knees to fix the ring over Heavy’s cock.

Engineer can barely believe what he’s seeing. He knew at this point that Heavy was submissive to Medic, but he didn’t grasp just how authoritarian Medic is. The hitting, the hurting and the name-calling are all a bit much, Engineer doesn’t understand how he could enjoy it. But he’s never seen a cock as hard as Heavy’s is, so it must all be going in the right direction.

Getting the ring over Heavy’s cock while it was hard was an adventure, but it’s finally fixed in place underneath his balls and over his prick, and it finally stops leaking. Medic appraises his handiwork with a hum and a feather-light kiss to the tip of Heavy’s cock.

“Let’s feed him,” he grins as he rises to a stand once more.

Engineer is quick to bring the torte over. It’s cool and wet, and he knows Heavy will appreciate it after the assault his throat has gotten from all the other hot food. Medic takes his glove off and digs his fingers right into the side of the dessert, pulling away a heaping bite of thick, pillowy chocolate and gooey frosting.

Heavy sits perfectly still while Medic feeds him, moving only his mouth and tongue to suck away every last bit of chocolate that clings to the German’s fingers. The heavy torte is rich and dense but mercifully cool as it slides down his parched throat. Engineer hasn’t given him much to drink since he started feeding him and frosting sticks to the dry walls of his esophagus causing him to swallow a few times to get it all down.

Medic encourages Engineer to select something to feed Heavy as well. He fills a bowl with vanilla ice cream he churned himself to help wash down the sticky chocolate, and spoons bites of the cool confectionary to the giant in between fingerfulls of the torte.

The pace is quick and it leaves Heavy shaking and whining through his nose. Engie has to pause more than once to adjust his dick, which has started to put up a serious fuss. Medic notices his discomfort with a chuckle, but gives no commands.

The torte isn’t terribly big, but it sits very heavy in the Russian’s belly. Engie tips the bowl to Heavy’s lips to let him drink what melted at the bottom. He wants to rub Heavy’s stomach again to help him settle, but Medic is in charge now and he’d rather not cross him.

Torte and ice cream gone Heavy is allowed a small break. Medic sits back to admire his work, giving the bigger man a moment to breathe. He still can’t touch himself, not to soothe his painfully cramping belly or appease his achingly hard cock, both of which are crying out for some attention. He’s not sure where he’s more desperate for contact, only that both feel full to bursting.

Without warning Medic presses the heel of his boot to his belly, none to gently, causing the giant to gasp and writhe in his bonds, trying to get away from the unpleasant sensation.

"Doktor, please. Do not, please doktor it hurts," he begs.

Engineer shrinks back slightly. Medic notes his discomfort with a roll of his eyes and grabs the shorter man by his overalls to drag him in closer. Only when his lips are pressed right behind his ear does he let the Texan in on the concept of safe-words, quietly enough that the candor doesn’t break the mood the Heavy is in.

It’s a weird concept to the fairly vanilla Texan, experimental ropework aside. A word that can bring the whole thing to an end at the drop of a hat, so that the tormented person can beg for it to stop to their heart’s content? It seems like such a gruesome act. Engie didn’t mind taking charge a little bit, but he doubts he could ever intentionally hurt someone during sex like Medic apparently can and does.

“You vill take vhat I give you,” Medic orders, raising his boot to press it against Heavy’s chest and force his shoulders back so his gut strains upwards. “If you continue to act like a child you’ll be punished.”

Heavy is near tears again but his body shows no sign that he’s anything but aroused. He strains forward for a moment, pressing his belly out towards his masters as if asking their approval, before going limp in his bonds again, answering only by opening his mouth to be fed again at their whim.

“Vhat a good boy he is,” Medic pets Heavy’s neck and chin, stroking his thumb through the film of salty sweat and sucking it off his finger. “Vas he zhis good for you zhe whole time?”

“Of course he was,” Engie chuckles. _Of course, I was pretty good to him too_ , he wants to say, but keeps it in.

“Maybe I _will_ loan him to you occasionally,” Medic croons and picks another pecan off the top of the cheesecake to feed to Heavy. “He’s a desperate slut, maybe I’m just not enough to please him anymore. Maybe he needs you, too. Your gentle touch makes mine sting all zhe more.” He emphasizes his point by bringing his bare palm down on the exposed skin at the bottom of Heavy’s belly with a sharp smack.

Heavy cries out, jerking against the cord wrapped around him. A bright red mark blooms on his skin where Medic struck him but he barely notices it.

He knows the doctor is only teasing about lending him out. They’ve talked about this before and he knows Medic would never actually give him away or lend him out like a whore. But it hurts to hear none the less and only makes him want to please his lover more.

Medic finally picks up the cheesecake and takes another caramel-smothered pecan for himself before holding it up for Heavy to smell. “Vhat is zhis called?” Medic asks the Engineer, scooping up a bit of caramel to suck off his finger.

“Caramel turtle cheesecake. Ain’t no turtles in it but – ah, nevermind. It’s just chocolate, caramel and pecans,” Engie scoops more ice cream into the bowl to give Heavy something to ease along the thick cream cheese.

“Feed it to him. I think he requires my attention elsevhere.” Medic hands the cake to Engie and drops to his knees.

Engineer is stunned into stillness for the first few seconds when Medic fits his mouth effortlessly over the thick cock hanging between Heavy’s thighs. Heavy’s shout settles hot into Engie’s belly and he shivers despite the heat.

"Doktor wants to kill me," Heavy tells Engineer in a husky voice, earning him another smack to his belly from the doctor for speaking without permission.

He shuts up then and allows the Texan to feed him his first piece of cheesecake. It’s sweet and smooth and unlike anything he’s tasted before. The pecans give it a nice crunch and the crust is perfectly crumbly. Between bites Engineer gives him spoonfuls of ice cream to soothe his tortured throat.

It’s delicious, absolutely perfect, but each bite is a challenge. His belly is so big that despite the man holding it out of the way to get at his dick, he can barely see Medic kneeling in front of him. He certainly can’t see his head or his perfect lips wrapped around his diamond-hard cock.

Engineer can barely contain his excitement. Heavy’s loud moans and thick swallows are almost completely overpowered by the Medic’s enthusiastic slurping. He fork-feeds the cake into Heavy, one slice, two slices, three, he can hardly believe how enormous Heavy’s belly has gotten. It’s huge and round, and his shirt has gotten so tight it looks downright painful.

“I’ve got an idea,” Engie licks his lips after half the cheesecake is gone. Medic pulls off of Heavy’s cock with an interested hum. He watches as the man fetches a small knife and takes the too-tight hem of Heavy’s shirt. He manages to pull it just barely far enough away from his skin to slip the blade under, and puts the smallest of knicks in the hem.

The weight of Heavy’s belly instantly forces the slice halfway up the side of his belly and releases some of the pressure. Heavy’s moan is grateful as the cramps immediately ease up.

“There ya’re,” Engie strokes the deep red line in the side of his belly. “Now you gotta keep eating if you want to open up the shirt more.”

“Gott, zhat’s brilliant,” Medic moans, resting his cheek against Heavy’s swollen tummy. He nibbles his skin, dips his tongue into his navel and bites down right beside it to make the giant squirm. “Tell me how you feel, Heavy.”

"Heavy, doktor." the Russian says with a small laugh. The movement causes his body to shake a little and his large belly trembles from the small movement. "Feel warm and big and heavy. Do not think I could stand, even if I try. I feel like I am about to burst. It hurts doktor. Belly is cramping and I do not know if I can take another bite."

“Either you do as I say and keep eating, or I’ll fuck zhe Engineer over zhis table and make you vatch,” Medic growls.

Engineer’s whole body heats up, but he can’t help but feel a little guilty when Heavy whimpers. As much as he would love to bend over the table for the other man, the Russian looks heartbroken by the notion. Engie doesn’t miss the way his cock throbs, though.

“I will do it,” Heavy pants desperately. Engineer supplies him quickly with the cake again to ease his emotional suffering.

Medic goes right back to business. He has to lift Heavy’s belly out of the way to slide his mouth over his thick cock, and no matter how much he tries to maneuver it, his forehead presses against the warm, pillowy fat. He has to remove his glasses to keep them from pressing uncomfortably into the bridge of his nose as he pushes his head into the swollen form of his lover. He can hardly believe this is actually happening, he never imagined this would come to pass even in his wildest fantasies. He hardly thinks Heavy could possibly look any more beautiful than with his stomach swollen out as far as his body will allow.

Heavy is groaning around every bite now. Each one is harder than the last and he contemplates safewording just to get Medic to rub his belly and ease the painful cramps while cooing soft words and praises to him.

He doesn’t though. He isn’t in any more pain than he’s used to and he wants so badly to please his masters. There will be soft touches and kind words when they’re done.

Engineer feeds him another two slices before he sets the tray aside to give the Heavy more ice cream. It’s mostly liquid now, more a milkshake than ice cream, but it feels so good sliding down into his belly, adding another layer to the mountain of food he’s consumed.

Engineer is nothing if not impressed when Heavy manages to finish off the cheesecake. He’s eaten a whole cheesecake himself once – not a story he likes to dwell on considering the cheesecake was supposed to be brought to a wedding that he was uninvited from and he ate the whole thing in combined grief and resentment – and he remembers how sick and tight he felt afterwards. He can’t even imagine how full Heavy must be feeling right now. He _looks_ like he’s about to burst.

With every bite he took, a few more threads popped on the side of his shirt and gave him just a little more relief. His breathing is shallower than ever now, and he looks a little dizzy with ardor and lack of oxygen.

“He’s such a devoted sub,” Medic praises when he pulls back from Heavy’s cock, which looks like it’s about to fall off it’s gotten so red and swollen. He kisses the wet tip and mouths along the bottom of his wide, gravid belly.

“He’s amazing,” Engie pants and sets down the finished ice cream so he can paw at Heavy with both hands. At this point if Medic tried to stop him he’d challenge his authority because if he can’t touch Heavy now he might lose it. He moans almost as loud as Heavy does when he smoothes his palm over his taut, huge tummy.

"No more, no more." Heavy begs as Engineer rubs his monstrous belly. He can’t believe how large he is. He feels like the little girl in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory who turned into a blueberry, all blown up and rounded out. Medic is going to have to roll him down the hall to bed after this.

Of course the thought of rolling on his belly makes him groan in pain. He couldn’t put that much pressure on his stomach now. The only pressure he wants is the four hands of his two lovers gently rubbing away the aches and pains that roll through him in waves.

“Y’know, he was doubting me earlier,” Engie says playfully as he massages the massive curve of Heavy’s stomach.

“Ja?” Medic raises his eyes at Heavy. “Zhat’s not very polite.”

“He said there was no way I could ever make enough food to fill him like this,” Engineer grips a little harder to feel how tight Heavy is, and the bigger man shouts.

Medic tuts at the Russian. “Honestly, Heavy, zhat’s rude,” he scolds, and gives the bigger man’s belly a tight squeeze as well.

"I am sorry! Sorry, will not doubt again!" Heavy cries out, his voice tight with pain. "You were right sir, could fill me up. Filled me up too much, am not going to be able to leave. Have gotten too big."

“I don’t think your confession is good enough,” Medic continues, standing up and pressing between Heavy’s legs so he can grind the full length of his body against the Russian’s huge belly. “I think you owe him a much more sincere apology. I vant you to suck him, schatz. If you make him feel good zhen I vill make you feel good.”

Heavy groans and nods. He can’t get up to kneel in front of Engineer and even if he did he’s pretty sure he’d topple over and trap the smaller man beneath him.

Instead Engie unclips his overalls and climbs up to sit on the table so he’s within easy reach. Under Medic’s watchful eye he opens his pants enough to draw out his cock, fully hard and weeping. He’s been waiting this for so long, since he first noticed the changes in Heavy’s body as his stomach began to swell. He hadn’t imagined Medic here watching but, well he’s got nothing to be shy about.

The Russian looks to his doctor for permission before leaning forward as much as he can to close his lips around the leaking head of Engineer’s cock.

“Oh my god,” Engineer sighs. He almost starts crying, it’s like he’s reached nirvana. He smoothes his palm over the scratch of Heavy’s stubbled head and leans back with a loud, open-throated moan.

Engineer has never been blown like this before. Heavy’s mouth is just as large as the rest of him, he can take him all the way down to the root in one go. His tongue is wide and flat and cool from the ice cream and cheesecake, but his throat is hot and sticky. Engineer has definitely never felt like this. Scout’s going to be so jealous when he’s no longer at the top of his list of best blows.

“Vhat a good boy,” Medic praises and steps behind Heavy and reaches around to rub soothingly at his giant belly. “Make him come and zhen drink it all up.”

Heavy groans, imagining swallowing down Engineer’s load on top of everything else. It’s the perfect way to end his meal and he can’t wait.

Still, he doesn’t rush. He wants this to be good for Engineer. He sucks him slowly and carefully, pulling up now and then to suck and tease the head with his tongue before plunging back down, taking him in again and hollowing his cheeks around him to make the Texan moan.

“Oh lord oh lord,” Engie’s toes curl in his boots and he starts to shake. He can’t even keep his eyes open, he can barely stay upright. He keeps swaying and has to grab onto Heavy’s ears to stay upright. His entire pelvic floor is fluttering, he’s already so close. His breath is sawing into his lungs, he can’t even breathe. His head is spinning, he might pass out, this is everything he’s ever wanted and he didn’t even know he wanted it.

“Suck him dry, schatz,” Medic continues, massaging the aching sides of Heavy’s full belly. Gravity has seized hold of his stomach and is pulling it downward into an even more dramatic curve. The soft fat lining his torso has taken advantage of the free space and hangs off the tight drum of his belly like whipped cream on a cake.

Heavy does as he’s ordered. There’s no more teasing now, he simply swallows Engineer down until the man’s cock is hitting the back of his throat and sucks, his tongue laving only what he can manage without moving his head too much.

“God oh my god oh god!” Engie has to throw a knee over Heavy’s shoulder to keep from falling over backwards when his orgasm hits him like a truck. His vision whites out and his spine turns to rubber. It’s so much more intense than what he usually experiences, it feels like his entire pelvis has melted into the desk, like his belly has bloomed open like a flower and his insides have expanded to fill the room. A single tear rolls out of his tightly squeezed eye and down his cheek, but it’s imperceptible in the sweat on his chin.

He almost falls over when his orgasm finally slows to a dull roar. His eyes are barely open, his lips are parted, he’s breathing like he’s never taken a breath in his life. He doesn’t even register it when Heavy pulls off and swallows like he was told.

“Do you need to lie down, friend?” Medic teases when he watches Engineer sway and almost topple off the desk altogether.

“Lie down…” Engineer echoes tiredly. He teeters to the side and drops into the chair in front of his desk so he can put his head down for a moment and regain his composure.

Medic returns his attention to the expectant giant with a smile and strokes his jaw and throat. He rubs down his chest, taking a moment to squeeze one massive pectoral muscle, and then farther down so he can slide his palms down Heavy’s giant belly. He retrieves the knife that Engie used to slit the shirt and makes a new cut so he can extract Heavy’s shirt from underneath the cord with surgical precision.

His stomach sags even farther when it’s completely free of the shirt, hanging in his lap like he swallowed an anchor. Medic bites his lip to keep from groaning at the sight. It honestly looks like he swallowed a person whole. The thought has Medic shivering.

"Doktor?" Heavy asks, his voice pleading as he looks up at his lover. "You will fuck me? Please? Untie me and fuck me?"

“Do you vant me to untie you?” Medic circles around Heavy like a vulture, sliding his bare palm alone his shoulders and chest. “Zhat vill cost you extra.”

"Whatever you want." Heavy promises, nodding enthusiastically. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give to get some relief. "Will give anything if you please fuck me."

“I’ll give you a choice,” Medic continues to circle him, occasionally moving in closer to kiss his neck or shoulder. “Either you can eat one helping of zhat cobbler zhere and zhen I vill untie you and fuck you on your back… or you can choose to eat nothing else, but I vill fuck you on your hands und knees.”

Heavy whimpers. He can’t possible eat another helping. He won’t be able to handle it, he’ll explode. But the thought of being on his back, gravity no longer pulling on his belly like it is now, drawing his heavy belly down to the floor, sounds like heaven.

"I will eat," he says softly.

“Zhat’s a good boy,” Medic pets Heavy’s head. “Engineer, vould you like to help ease his vay?”

Engie lifts his head off the desk, still feeling a little dizzy. But he’d climb a mountain to get his hands back on that belly. He drops to his knees in front of Heavy after he tucks himself away and shucks the rest of his overalls. Heavy gives a grateful groan when Engie starts to methodically massage his aching tummy.

Medic heaps a generous helping into a bowl that has Heavy whimpering. “Doktor is cheating,” he complains weakly, but Medic only smiles and scoops a dollop of peach filling and crumbly crust into a spoon and holds it out for the other man.

Heavy closes his eyes and opens his mouth, allowing spoonful after spoonful to be fed to him. Each swallow is agony and he can’t bear to see the food coming. It lands on his tongue and he swallows, not even bothering to chew. He wants this to be over. He wants to be on his back with his lover rubbing away his pain, telling him what a good boy he is and how beautiful he looks. He’ll do anything to get through this and earn his reward.

Medic is beside himself with glee as he fills spoonful after spoonful and watches the dessert disappear into his lover. Half the bowl is gone in record time, he can hardly believe how quickly Heavy is willing to get it over with.

Engineer can barely see from his vantage point. His vision is almost completely eclipsed by Heavy’s enormous belly. He rubs and massages and kneads every square inch of hot, stretched tummy, determined not to miss a millimeter. Heavy has done so well, he more than deserves the reward coming to him.

When the spoon hits the bowl, Heavy opens his eyes to see it’s empty. He’s finally, finally finished. He’s earned his reward. Medic leans in for a powerful kiss, overwhelming him with lips and tongue, tasting the peaches on his palate.

Heavy moans into his mouth, wishing he could reach out and hold his lover against his body, feel the length of him pressed against his hard, warm belly. But he can’t. He’s still tied to the chair and the most he can do is moan his distress.

Medic finally breaks the kiss and circles around back to undo the knot at the back of Heavy’s neck, but he’s struggling. “Ach, I’m not familiar vith zhis knot,” he grunts, tugging at a random length of the cord.

“That’s cause I created it myself,” Engineer says proudly, and stops massaging Heavy’s belly so he can assist the Medic. “I call it the chokehold for a reason.”

“Maybe you could teach me,” Medic chuckles as Engineer expertly unwinds the tricky knot. Finally the length drops free of Heavy’s body and he can droop in his chair, freed.

The sudden release from the ropes is a relief and Heavy takes a moment to twist and rub at his sore wrists. He also rubs at his sore belly, finally able to feel how hard his stomach has grown under the cushiony fat. He’s never felt like this before. It’s strange but not a bad feeling, despite the cramps.

“Think you can get over to the bed, big guy?” Engineer asks. He’s very eager to watch Heavy get plowed by a man smaller than him by half.

Heavy doesn’t say anything. He grips the table and hoists himself up. His legs were already much smaller than his well developed torso but now they shake under the extra weight and he practically has to lunge to the bed to get there before they give out completely.

Once he’s on his back, he feels like he can finally breathe. But contrastly, both Medic and Engineer’s breath is taken away. They can see the way Heavy’s belly sticks straight up, hard and round and huge. It sways and shakes with his quick, shallow breaths and gurgles loudly from all the commotion of getting from the chair to the bed.

“Dear lord he’s gorgeous,” Engineer moans from the desk. Jealousy sweeps through him, he wishes he had someone like Heavy to fill up and keep around. He realizes he’s probably being ungrateful considering he still has Scout, Demo and Sniper who willingly eat until they’re almost sick for him, but none of them are anything quite like the mountain of a man in front of him, stuffed with enough food to feed the rest of the mercs combined.

“Isn’t he?” Medic hastily undoes the buttons of his coat so he can shrug it onto the back of the chair Heavy had been sitting in.

"Doktor…" Heavy pleads, rubbing at his belly again. He wants his lover. He’s waited long enough and worked hard for his reward and now all he wants his Medic inside him. He knows he’ll be punished for being so demanding but he can handle it.

“I’m coming, be patient,” Medic scolds as he sheds his waistcoat, tie and boots. He climbs onto the Engineer’s bed and laughs when after positioning himself between Heavy’s spread legs, he can barely see his lover’s face. “Gott, you’re huge. You’re _huge_ , schatz.”

Engineer doesn’t want to miss this for anything. He supplies his lube to the Medic and slips onto the bed at Heavy’s other end, lifting his head to rest comfortably in his lap. Heavy gives him a grateful groan, but words escape him when two of Medic’s fingers scissor into him with no warning.

Heavy groans as Medic stretches him open. He isn’t terribly gentle with the Russian. His fingers twist and scissor inside the Heavy, barely giving him time to breathe before shifting and stealing his breath away again. Heavy’s barely started to loosen up when he withdraws his fingers, only to add a third and press back inside as harshly as before.

If it weren’t for the plentiful lube, Heavy would be squirming in discomfort. Engineer’s gentle petting to his head and shoulders helps him to stay relaxed, but it’s not enough to keep him from fisting the blankets and bearing his teeth with loud breaths through his nose.

Medic is generous in his application of his anatomical expertise, and sends hot pleasure rippling through Heavy’s swollen body in spine-shaking waves. He wiggles his fingers in the younger man’s slippery channel, pumping his fingers into Heavy without mercy.

“He makes real nice faces,” Engineer chuckles and cranes his neck to look over Heavy’s belly at the other man.

“I’ll have to take your vord for it,” Medic says breathlessly, applying lube to his cock with his free hand while corkscrewing his fingers into Heavy with the other. “I can’t even see his face right now.”

"Oh doktor…." Heavy groans when Medic eases off enough that he can speak. He hasn’t been prepared as much as he knows Medic would like but at this point he’s too desperate to care. Let things be a little rough at the start, he can take it. He needs Medic’s cock in him now, consequences be damned.

“Do you vant me, Heavy?” Medic indicates the pillow behind Engineer and then gently helps lever it under the bigger man’s hips when it’s handed to him.

There’s so many things Heavy wishes he could say. He wants to beg like Medic loves, he wants to serenade him, he wants to compose poetry for him, he wants to cascade him with sweet, desperate words.

But his mind is so scrambled and his body is so lethargic, all he can grunt is a hoarse “Da.”

Medic only laughs. He rubs both of his hands over Heavy’s enormous tummy when a loud gurgle rumbles out of it. When he lines up and presses in, his lover’s body opens up for him without any trouble. In order to slide in all the way to the hilt, Medic has to bear his entire body down against Heavy’s belly. If there’s one thing Medic wants never to forget, it’s the way Heavy’s body feels against his in that moment. Soft fat giving way to a firm, weighty gut.

The weight of Medic on his stomach has Heavy groaning in pain and writhing under him, trying to relieve some of the oppressive pressure.

Soon enough Medic is off his gut and is fully seated within the Heavy’s body. There’s a sight  burn as his body stretched to accommodate the familiar girth of his lover’s cock that Heavy has missed all this time he’s been planning his surprise and denying Medic their usual love-making. It’s a wonderful feeling, one he’s missed during his self-inflicted celibacy. It feels so good to be full again, in every sense of the word.

Engineer is totally enthralled as he watches them move. He never would have thought he would get to watch a man as big as Heavy take it like he is. He reaches up over his head to take hold of the Engineer’s hips, holding him down in place to give himself something to brace against as his body is rocked by Medic’s.

The doctor is already growling on every exhale. His whole body is burning with need, brighter than any flame with a wick too short for his own good. He grabs hold of Heavy’s belly with both hands to give himself a good fulcrum to lever his hips with. It’s a challenge moving Heavy’s body on the best of days, and he’s several pounds heavier than usual. Even if Medic wasn’t completely in love with the anatomy and keeping his hands off of it wasn’t a challenge, he still would have grabbed hold of it as the best option to hold his lover still.

Heavy is never one to hold back his pleasure. He groans and moans and gasps Medic’s name with every thrust. He slips into Russian when the doctor hits his prostate and his grip tightens on Engineer’s hips, tight enough that he’s sure to leave bruises that will last for days if he doesn’t go to the doctor to have them cleared up.

Engineer can’t believe his eyes. He digs his boots into the bed to try and hold still for the giant. He feels used, like a piece of machinery, and it feels damn good. He rubs his hands down Heavy’s chest experimentally, threading through the soft hair on his pectorals and biceps. He runs his hands up his mountainous belly as far as he can reach, and then back down. His body is a little sweaty, so his hands glide right over his skin. He stops at Heavy’s chest and gently pinches his nipple with his organic hand to see if he likes that sort of thing.

Heavy’s moan turns into a loud, strung out cry and his hips buck when Engineer teases his nipple. He’s never told anyone, though Medic obviously knows thanks to hours of experimentation, but his nipples are one of the most sensitive areas of his body. Medic’s driven him right to the edge of orgasm touching him nowhere but his nipples, though he had engaged several toys for maximum stimulus. To have Engineer touching them now, even just the one, would have had him going off like a rocket if it weren’t for the ring still fixed tightly around his increasingly red, swollen cock.

Engineer’s eyes widen and he looks up at Medic, who just gives him a smug smirk over the crest of Heavy’s belly. Taking that as permission to carry on, he bends down and takes his nipple into his mouth.

He didn’t know Heavy’s voice could get that high.

“I told you he’s a slut for it!” Medic crows and slaps Heavy’s belly again, sending the giant into shaking fits almost as powerful as his ceiling-rattling moans.

"Da, da! I am slut!" Heavy cries, his hips bucking and chest and stomach heaving as he writhes beneath their assault on his senses. He feels so good, so very very good he’ll say almost anything to keep them from stopping.

“Do you vant me to remove zhe ring?” Medic commands, pounding into Heavy with all the strength he can muster in his hips and thighs. His lower back burns with effort, but he won’t let up yet, not until Heavy is completely destroyed.

Heavy nods so hard his neck hurts. He wants the ring off. He wants to come so badly. He’s so sensitive every touch has his head spinning and his starting to tip away from pleasurable to painful.

"Let me come, please doktor. Let me come," he begs.

“Zhen come.” The ring is under so much pressure that the Medic barely has to pull on it before it snaps eagerly off the thick cock.  

Engineer wouldn’t be surprised if the entire base heard Heavy roar when he reaches his earth-shattering orgasm.

Heavy blacks out. He hears a roaring in his ears that he vaguely recognizes as his own voice as his orgasm tears through him, pleasure so great it overwhelms his senses and for a moment the world fades away. His eyes were already closed but his lovers’ touch and the sounds of their lovemaking fade away.

He’s only out for a few seconds, but everything seems to have changed by the time he comes to. Medic isn’t inside him anymore, he’s standing at the edge of the bed with his hand flying over his cock, poised directly at his belly. Engineer on the other hand has moved to his other end, and while his gut hides him from view he can feel the Texan’s hot mouth licking and sucking his own seed off the bottom of his tummy.

Medic comes with a loud groan and braces one hand on Heavy’s belly to keep from falling over while he splatters his skin with hot white stripes.

Heavy watches his lover’s face, as amazed as he always is by the breathtaking beauty of the doctor in his bliss. His hot seed splatters his skin and burns like a brand and he couldn’t be more pleased by it. He loves when his doctor marks him, claims him as his own like this. It makes him feel whole and safe and loved.

Drained, Medic slumps forward onto the soft-hard mountain that is Heavy’s swollen belly. Ignoring Engineer for the time being the Russian allows himself a sleepy smile and places a hand on the German’s back, holding him as best as he can.

Engineer eventually slips off the bed to give the pair room. “I bet you’re gonna wanna stay here,” he laughs with his hands on his hips. “Sorry my bed ain’t bigger, it doesn’t usually hold two.”

“Ve’ll make due,” Medic’s demeanor has completely changed as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed and smoothes his hand over Heavy’s chest and shoulders. “I don’t think Heavy is in any condition to valk all zhe ay across zhe base.” Heavy groans at the very thought and throws an arm over his eyes.

"You take our bed." Heavy offers when he can bear to look at the Engineer again. "We do not mind, do we doktor? We will stay here and he will have our bed for one night."

“As long as he sleeps on your side,” Medic huffs through his nose.

Engie only laughs and busies himself with straightening up all the empty dishes. “Naw, I’ll be fine fellas. I’ve got plenty of other beds I can go crash in.” he grimaces at the way his own words sound. “I mean… gosh, I sound like a harem boss.”

He turns to see Medic curled around Heavy’s side like a snake beside a boulder. He’s whispering in Heavy’s ear too quietly for the Engineer to hear, probably sweet little things going by the Russian’s wide, dopey smile.

It’s a wonder to behold the Medic like this. He’s always such a terrifying figure of authority and bloodshed on the battlefield, and a stalwart man of science and gruesome discovery in the base. He’s never seen him like this, sweet and loving and gentle to the man he’d called a slut not minutes before.

It feels like an imposition to stay here during their quiet moment of shared peace and vulnerable intimacy. He finishes stacking the dirty empty plates and loads the rest of the unfinished food and desserts into his wagon. It’s always a struggle to get the damn thing up the stairs, but he does so as quietly as he can to leave the lovers to themselves.

Besides, he’s got more than enough food left over for a nice dinner with Sniper. They’ll invite Demoman, too.


	8. Pyro

If you’d told Engineer at the beginning of the war that in a few short years he’d be good friends with his entire team, he would have laughed. After all, he didn’t plan on making friends when he came to war.

His friendships with the men are all different, and he cherishes every single one.

Heavy enjoys his company when he wants to silently read a book and Medic is busy with some gruesome experiment. They play chess and checkers and backgammon and dominoes and any board game they can get their hands on in the base. After that day in the basement they’re never intimate like that again, but if he were ever invited Engie definitely wouldn’t turn him down. For the time being he enjoys quietly working on his blueprint sketches while Heavy reads nearby and occasionally shares interesting passages.

Medic often calls upon him for his genius and mechanical expertise. At first he would have done just about anything to avoid spending much time alone with Medic. But when they start working together to improve the medigun designs, he gets to know the German socially and finds out that his terrifying presence comes in large part with just not knowing him. It’s easy to get swept away by his manic laughter and blood-stained grins when you never experience his genuine childlike joy or his quiet, pleased candor.

Spy still treats him coldly sometimes, but eventually he gets over his pride when he realizes that Engineer is probably the only one on the team who has seen him so low and vulnerable, and it would be in his best interest to befriend that person instead of push them away. Engineer isn’t so gullible that he can’t tell Spy’s friendliness is forced, but he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially after he finds out that Spy’s actually a pretty darn good chef himself, and they trade recipes. Spy insists he’s never going to touch any of Engie’s, but the Texan sometimes catches him poring over his special spice rub for steaks and roasts.

Sniper, he’s pretty sure, has all but fallen in love with him. He spends more nights in the Aussie’s truck than he does in his own room or tent outside, all wrapped up in Sniper’s limbs that go on for days. His food brought them together and as far as he’s concerned it’s what will keep them together. He considers it a personal victory every time he sees the other man with his shirt off. He can’t see his ribs anymore.

Demo, on the other hand, he’s pretty sure _he’s_ fallen in love with. He builds him a bigger bed just so he and Sniper can sleep in it with him. Demo takes his time with Engineer in everything he does. Nothing is ever rushed or forced, from sex to romance to conversation. Their relationship is quiet and casual and perfect. And most importantly, he really makes Engie feel beautiful. Nobody looks at him quite the way Demoman does.

Scout is every inch the insufferable child he always was, but it seems somehow more bearable now that he knows what the kid is like after he’s been knocked down a peg or two. He gets nice and quiet after he’s stuffed up to the brim or after he’s had the daylights fucked right out of him by Demo and(/or) Sniper. He also has a large part in helping Engineer to feel better about his paunch, even if his approach is strictly lustful stares and dirty talking.

Soldier is an odd bird, but he voluntarily spends a lot more time with Engineer now. He’ll track him down to sit with him in the mess hall or invite him back to his barebones barracks, or even back to his bunker. One thing he never would have guessed is that Soldier is a _cuddler_. He’s a huge fan of being the little spoon, he says it makes him feel safe. Engineer can’t quite wrap up around him because of the height difference, but he tries his best. Soldier sticks pretty close to him on the battlefield all of a sudden, and when he asks why, Solly tells him it’s because he wants to make Engie feel safe, too.

But when he thinks about it, he realizes that he’s not quite friends with the Pyro. In fact, he knows absolutely nothing about him, other than he’s fond of pie. Which doesn’t tell him much.

He asks around a bit but as far as he can tell, no one is friends with Pyro. No one’s ever seen his face or actually heard his voice. He doesn’t eat in the mess halls, just collects as many desserts as he can and leaves. He doesn’t play games in the rec rooms, just sits in a corner playing with matches and a cup of water, and he doesn’t use the showers or bathrooms when anyone else is around. He’s sort of an ever present ghost they all acknowledge but mostly put out of their minds as much as possible.

So it’s a surprise when a few weeks after his encounter with Medic and Heavy Engineer is awoken by a knock on the door at the wee hours of the morning, in Demoman’s room no less. Disentangling himself from Demo and Sniper, who simply roll together in his absence, he goes to the door to find Pyro standing outside it, holding up an empty pie tray.

Sleepily, Engineer blinks into the blank lenses of the Pyro’s gas mask. Neither of them move or say a word, until a yawn overtakes Engie and Pyro lifts the pan again in emphasis.

“What in God’s name are you doin’ here at four in the morning?” the Engineer asks, leaning against the door jamb tiredly.

Pyro wiggles the pie pan from side to side.

Engineer sighs again and shoots a look back at his warm bed and warmer sleeping companions. They look wonderfully soft and inviting and he is way too tired to deal with this right now.

"You want more pie darlin’?" he asks with a yawn. "I don’t have any right now but I’ll make you one tomorrow alright?"

Pyro shifts his weight from foot to foot. Engie can’t see his face past the lenses, but he can tell just from his body language that he looks uncertain. He points wordlessly past the Engineer at the duo snuggled up on the king size bed.

“You… wanna join the snuggle pile?” the Texan asks, trying to be patient. He’s never been a fan of charades.

Pyro shakes his head and lifts the pie pan again.

"You- you want me to feed you?" Engineer asks, comprehension dawning on him. How does Pyro even know about that? For that matter, how did he know he was here instead of his own room?

That’s a little too creepy to think about. He makes a note to tell Demo to invest in a few extra locks in the morning.

"Well I can’t right now darlin’ but uh… I mean if you really want I can whip somethin’ up in a few days." he offers, hoping the mad man will be satisfied and will leave without further fuss.

Pyro bounces a little bit on his heels and shoves the pan into Engie’s chest. He gives a little wave and jogs back down the hall, leaving the Engineer standing there in a stupor. Somehow, by some arcane and wonderful magic, he really is going to manage to meet the goal he set for himself to feed every single member of his team.

However, as he climbs back into bed, he realizes he has absolutely no idea what kind of food Pyro likes. All he’s ever seen the masked renegade take from the mess hall are desserts, so he assumes he must eat some other kind of dinner. He doubts the firebug subsists solely on sugar alone. Of course, he might. There’s no real way to even tell if he’s human. He could be some kind of glucose vampire.

That’s all a problem for tomorrow though. For now he’s got two beautiful men waiting to spoon him until morning and the happy news that he’s going to meet his goal and feed up his whole team in just a few days.

With that comforting thought (and the knowledge that the door is locked) he allows himself to drift back to sleep.

When he wakes up he’s almost convinced the whole thing was a dream. If it weren’t for the pie tin still sitting on the bedside table he’d be sure of it. It’s all too surreal. But the evidence is right in front of him and there’s nothing to be done for it but accept what he remembers as the truth.

Time to start planning a menu.

He gathers what more information he can get his hands on from the others. What kinds of things have they seen Pyro take from the mess? He doesn’t have to be shy or hide what he’s planning at this point, seeing as everyone knows what he’s up to by now. Pyro will wave at him every time they run into each other on the base and the battlefield over the next few days, and it only reminds him how much he still doesn’t know about the man.

All he knows about Pyro is he sets fires and likes pie. So that’s what he’ll go with.

He didn’t really get to explore all the desserts he knows how to make with all the others, anyway. Pyro is probably the only person who can eat nothing but desserts without getting sick.

The baking process is fairly slow, though. He only has so much oven space, and even when he makes use of the main kitchen in the lounge area of their base, it’s slow going to make enough desserts to give the man some real variety. The only desserts the mess hall provides are chocolate chip cookies and the occasional pie (with a dry crust, if you ask Engie.) He’s going to overwhelm the poor firebug.

He’s not an easy man to track down, either. He has to get word from four separate people where Pyro’s room even is, and by the time he finds it, the Pyro isn’t even inside. He knocks once and the door swings right open. The door knob on the inside has apparently been melted right off. Pyro is nowhere to be seen, and normally the Texan wouldn’t be one to intrude, but he can’t help but be a little curious about the intimate details of such a mysterious man.

He creeps into the dimly lit room and lifts his goggles onto his forehead to try and blink away the gloom. The room’s only window is kept covered by three tattered blankets tacked messily to the wall with… are those railroad spikes? He tries to take a step towards the window to lift away the blankets, but his step crunches on a thick layer of newspaper. Which probably isn’t very safe, considering Pyro’s inclination to set things on fire. Carefully, the Engineer steps around empty glass bottles and disposable pie tins to get to the window. He throws the corner of the blankets up to hang over the spike, and takes better inventory of the room.

In one corner, several identical hazmat suits are hung over more railroad spikes – where is Pyro getting all these spikes? – and a few spare gas masks lay in a pile underneath. His bed is nothing but the metal and wire frame, where a few different flamethrowers sit on the springs. One appears to have been made entirely out of trumpets, bubble soap and paper mache.

His mattress has been set up in a different corner in a giant nest of blankets, towels and newspaper. The single closet doesn’t even have a door (it looks like it was burned off completely) and all that hangs inside are rows of plain, unassuming blue jeans and tank tops in white, black and grey.

Tacked all over the walls are what appear to be child’s drawings, on scraps of newspaper, business documents, receipts, and whatever other paper Pyro could find lying around. The drawings are all colorful, depicting the entirety of the red team interacting with one another.

In one picture, Pyro drew himself frolicking through piles of flowers hand-in-hand with Demo, only identifiable because his crude stick figure was drawn in brown crayon. In another, Pyro appears to having a tea party underneath a rainbow with Heavy as well as a unicorn and a few bunnies. In another picture, Engineer finds a rough representation of himself handing a pie to Pyro.

As sweet as all the drawings are, it makes Engie a little sad when he realizes that all of these men that Pyro has depicted himself with in friendly, happy scenarios, don’t think of Pyro as a friend at all. In fact, they’re all downright afraid of him, and would never frolic or have tea parties with him.

He takes his time looking at all the drawings until he comes to a mirror with a big crack down the middle. His heart jumps right out of his chest when he sees the reflection of the Pyro standing in the doorway.

"Hey there darlin’!" He says, spinning around so fast he almost falls over. His heart is pounding in his chest so loud he’s sure Pyro can hear it even through his suit and mask. "Almost gave me a heart attack there, I didn’t hear you come in. I’m real sorry to intrude but the door opened on its own and I was looking for you. Real sorry about that."

Pyro, unsurprisingly, doesn’t say anything. He walks toward the Engineer, who resists the urge to flatten himself against the wall. He’s sure the Pyro isn’t about to set him on fire, so it’s not fair to treat him like he is. Even if that’s pretty much exactly how he treated Heavy at first.

Pyro reaches past him and peels the scrap of paper he drew the picture of himself and the Engineer off the wall. Before Engie can say anything, he sticks the picture to Engie’s overalls by the tape it’d been stuck to the wall with.

It’s pretty much the last thing Engineer had expected. It’s like something a little kid would do, not a crazed pyromaniac whose only joy in life is destruction by fire. It’s actually kind of sweet.

"Oh. Well thank you. I’ll hang it up in my room when I get back." he promises.

Pyro nods and grabs Engie’s hand. The Texan almost panics, but then he realizes that the fire starter is really just… holding his hand. He almost forgets in that moment why people are afraid of him at all.

He leads Pyro back to his basement hand-in-hand. The firebug couldn’t be happier, going by his body language. He’s almost skipping, bouncing a little bit with every step. He waves at anybody they pass in the halls, and a few of them smile knowingly at Engie, who averts his eyes with red cheeks.

Pyro of course isn’t bothered at all by the heat in the basement. However, he stops dead in his tracks when he sees the array of desserts laid out in front of him. Engie hears excited shouting muffled within the mask and watches as the man bounces up and down on the spot and points energetically at the feast of sugar.

"I wasn’t too sure what you like. You seem to have a sweettooth so I went based off that. If there’s anything here you don’t like you just let me know." he says, taking Pyro’s hand again and leading him over to his chair. "I’ve got ice cream in my freezer over there too. Chocolate and vanilla."

Pyro sits on his knees on the chair and wiggles excitedly. His head snaps around, trying to get a glimpse of everything through the thick black lenses of his mask.

“You’re probably gonna have an easier time if you actually… take the mask off,” Engie says with a nervous chuckle. It hits him that he’s going to be the only person to know what the man looks like if he does.

Pyro shrinks down in his seat, his shoulders slumping and he sits on his feet. Engineer frowns, fearing he may have struck a chord.

“I mean, you don’t _have_ to,” he says hastily. “But if you want me to – I mean, well, I can’t feed you if you keep it on – if that’s what you want, that is. I assume it is. I’m ramblin’, I’m sorry.”

Pyro shakes his head and his gloves creak when he closes his hands around the thick material of his hazmat suit pants. He looks from side to side, his shoulders hitching up, apprehensive. Reaching past the collar of his suit, he fumbles with a clasp that seals his mask to the rest of the suit and lifts the rubber up just far enough to speak, with his head bowed so that the Texan can’t see the sliver of his face.

“No one… ever want to see,” his voice is a quiet, raspy tenor, but it’s definitely human. That definitely eliminates the rumors that he’s secretly an alien or a robot.

"I ain’t gonna make fun of you or nothin’ if that’s what you’re worried about," Engineer assures him. "And I ain’t gonna tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret. And I mean it ain’t like you’re the only one who doesn’t like showin’ his face around here. Spy’s never taken his mask off ‘far as I can tell. Think it’s fused to his head by now." Engineer says, hoping to earn a laugh from the Pyro to put them both at ease.

The mask stays at nose-level, but the Pyro doesn’t lift his head. He wrings his hands together with a squeak of rubber and gives a little sigh.

“Promise,” he says.

“I swear,” the Engineer draws an x over his heart.

Pyro wiggles uncomfortably for a few more seconds before finally unclasping the rest of the hooks, pulls it off and drops it to the ground.

The first thing the Engineer sees is an unruly mop of black curls, mostly matted down by sweat. Pyro shakes a big glove through the curls to fluff them back up, and lifts his head to look the Engineer in the eye.

Engie’s mouth hits the floor. Pyro’s face is round and soft, with big green eyes laced with the thickest eyelashes the Texan’s ever seen on a human and a wide, full-lipped mouth. There’s no mistaking the gentle features -  the Pyro is a _woman_. A woman with dark skin and more freckles on her cheeks than there are stars in the sky.

"Oh my…" Engineer says, his hand snapping back to his side like he’d been burned. "I’m sorry ma’am! Shoulda asked first, my apologies."

Well this complicates things. Pyro is a woman. If he’d known he wouldn’t have cooked so much. Women eat so much less than men. Could she even get stuffed like the others? He’s never seen a woman swell like the guys do outside of pregnancy. Is Pyro pregnant, is that why she wants to eat so much suddenly? If that’s the case who could possibly be the father?

They aren’t having sex, that’s for certain. He’s not the sort to sleep with a lady he barely knows. With men it’s different, ladies require a much gentler approach.

He can’t stop looking at her now. She’s absolutely lovely. He hasn’t seen such a beautiful woman in a long time. Miss Pauling is really the only woman around and she’s alright, but she’s just a kid and not really his type. Pyro is stunningly cute with her too-big ears and vivid green eyes, and he soon realizes he’s staring and looks away quickly, blushing hotly.

“Ask what?” her voice doesn’t seem to match her face anymore, deep and rough from years of smoke inhalation. She pulls her gloves off and shifts in her seat so she’s sitting crosslegged, and reveals that her hands are not only every bit as freckled as her face, but they’re also much bigger and more calloused than the Engineer ever expected to see on a woman. He’s seen the hands of the working girls back home, the ranch helpers and the famer’s wives, but even they wore rings and their nails were perfect and usually polished some bright color. Her hands are barely recognzieable as a woman’s hands at all, with short thick fingers and knobby knuckles and dry skin and chewed nails.

"Before I touched you. It’s rude to touch a woman without askin’," Engineer explains. Growing up he’d been told to always ask before touching a woman, even just holding her hand. It was only polite after all.

“Didn’t touch,” Pyro picks up her gloves and waves them.

"Still, gloves or no I did touch you without permission," Engineer says, flushing. "And that was wrong of me. I’m sorry miss. Or is it ma’am?"

She shrugs. “Don’t matter. Pie matter.”

Right. The pie, that’s why they’re here. Engineer decides to follow her lead and let the matter drop, choosing instead to focus on the mountains of food he’s sure are going to go to waste.

He starts with a small slice of chocolate pie. Girls like chocolate after all. And he doesn’t want to insult her by giving her a huge slice. She might take that to mean he thinks she’s fat or something. Which in his experience will get him slapped.

She actually laughs when she’s handed the plate with the slice of pie. It’s such a modest slice, but she won’t argue. It’s just a start, she’s sure. There are way too many desserts around her to expect a single slice of one pie.

“Why you feed everyone?” she asks after sucking a bit of chocolate off the tines of the fork he handed her. She sits up on her knees again and reaches for the rest of the pie when Engie doesn’t get her another slice quick enough, and sinks her fork right into the soft pudding and crust for another bite.

The more she speaks, the more the Engineer notes there’s a definite accent to her words. It’s hard to recognize because she speaks in such short sentences, but the familiarity of it itches in the back of his mind.

"I just like it. It’s satisfyin’, seein’ someone fed up and happy thanks the somethin’ I made," Engineer says. Its not the whole truth of course. He doesn’t want to tell her about how arousing he finds it to see someone stuffed, big and round and stretched beyond what should be humanly possible. She doesn’t need to know that.

“I seen it,” she says, licking whipped cream off her thumb. “I seen Scout.”

“What do you mean?” Engineer asks nervously.

Her mouth is filled back up with chocolate, so she motions with her hand, starting at her ribcage and miming the shape of a big round belly.

"Well… Scout likes to eat. We all know that." Engineer says, making a note to check everyone’s locks later. And maybe give scout a spanking for being so obvious.

She raises her eyebrows at the Engineer. “You lie,” she says. “You have a secret.”

Engie shrinks down a little bit. “Wh- what makes you say that?” his anxiousness is rising up in his throat.

She screws up her mouth in frustration and snaps her fingers of both hands. “Ah, the word left,” she claps her hands to the table once, twice, three times, and grunts.

The accent is definitely familiar. He’s heard it before and growing up in Texas his exposure to accents his fairly limited. These days he can pick out Northern, German, Russian, French and of course Texan. And Mexican, he thinks. It’s been a while but he’s known enough Mexicans to be able to pick out their accent.

That’s when it clicks for him. That’s why Pyro’s accent is so familiar. How could he have missed it?

"Hablas espanol?" He ventures.

She suddenly sits bolt upright, her already wide eyes rounding even wider. She grins and wiggles from side to side in her seat, and when she opens her mouth, flawless Spanish flows out of her in a rush.

“You speak Spanish too?” she’s almost bouncing in her seat. “That makes it so much easier I was afraid I was the only one on the whole base. I haven’t met anyone else who speaks Spanish, where did you learn, are you fluent?”

"I-I wouldn’t say fluent. It’s been a long time." Engineer says nervously, his Spanish shaky and his pronunciation a little off. He hasn’t had to speak more than a few words at a time since his last nanny/cook had left when he was 20. She was a beautiful big warm Mexican woman whose sons had been like brothers to him.

“What I was saying is that I know you’re lying because it’s not just Scout. I spend all my time watching people because nobody wants to spend time with me up close so I spend time with them from far away and I’ve seen what you do,” she babbles. Luckily for the Engineer he has a much easier time of listening and understanding than he does actually speaking.

"It’s not the sort of thing one talks about with a lady," Engineer says. He pushes another pie in front of her, hoping to distract her from her questions. She doesn’t seem to have much of an attention span anyway.

She looks at the pie and then back up to him, as if trying to debate between trying it and pressing for more information. She screws her mouth up to one side and jabs her fork into the gooey apple filling.

“The mask isn’t an accident,” she says, filling one cheek with apples and crust. “If I wanted everyone to treat me weird I would take it off in the base.”

"I don’t think I’m treating you weird. I’m showing you proper respect aren’t I?" Engineer asks, brow furrowed.

It doesn’t escape him how enthusiastically the girl is eating. Almost half the first pie is already gone despite their ongoing conversation. She’s been eating steadily through his answers, two or three large bites disappearing in the space of a sentence.

With anyone else he wouldn’t care. That’s how men eat after all. But if Pyro here thinks she has something to prove, that she has to somehow beat the guys she’s going to make herself sick.

“I don’t need respect I need cake,” she sits up on her thighs and cranes her neck across the table. “Don’t treat me like a girl or I’ll treat you like one. Is that carrot cake?”

"Yes that’s carrot cake," Engineer says, laughing. There’s carrot cake and vanilla cake and cookies and pies and tons of other sweets that make the girl’s eyes go wide with excitement and hunger.

Engineer likes that. He likes a girl who likes to eat. He likes anyone who likes to eat but with girls it’s a rare treat, and so are girls who speak their mind. She might be a little odd but Pyro falls firmly into both categories.

She eats her way happily through a slice of the moist cake, smiling and humming to herself between bites and wiggling with joy on her seat. She cuts out a slice of the cake onto a napkin and puts it on the corner of the desk. When Engineer asks why, she just says it’s “for the unicorn” and he decides not to press it. He probably doesn’t want to know what kind of creature she’s hallucinating.

“Are any of the cookies burnt?” she asks while sucking cream cheese frosting off her fingers. “I like burnt.”

“I bet you do,” Engie looks through the basket of cookies to get to the bottom where he singed the first batch slightly.

She bites into one and closes her eyes with a wide smile when the top crunches before giving way to a soft center, and the crispy texture mixes with the rest of the cooked dough on her tongue and melts. She hums another little song and puts a cookie on top of the cake on the corner of the desk.

Engineer watches her, flushing again this time with joy rather than embarrassment. She seems so pleased, so happy with the good sweet things she’s eating. Her enjoyment is obvious and it has him glowing with pride as she shoves another cookie into her mouth.

"Can I ask you somethin? You ever eat anythin’ that isn’t a dessert?" He asks. "Like a steak or a sandwich?"

“Of course I have,” she takes another bite of tangy apple pie to clear away the sticky sugar cookie. “The food here is bland. The desserts aren’t so bad but the food has no flavor. So I buy my food in town. I like it _spicy_.”

Engineer allows himself a sigh of relief. That’s good. At least she isn’t killing herself with sugar.

Too bad though. If he’d known he would have whipped up some extra spicy chili. Could have made it hot enough to burn a hole right through her mouth if she wanted. She probably would have eaten the whole pot, with a side of cornbread and some lemonade, cupcakes for dessert.

Already he can imagine her, glowing with happiness, so full there’s no room left to stretch out that baggy suit of hers, licking up a little chili running down the corner of her mouth. He forces himself to stop thinking about it.

“I’ve never had desserts like these,” she says, spearing a brownie with a fork and taking a big bite out of the gooey confectionary with a happy sigh. “Sometimes we made our own ice cream when I was young but the other kids always pushed me down and stole mine.”

"Well I can promise you, no one is going to take any of this. Its all for you." He assures her, gesturing to the piles of sweets. "And you know what? Next week I’ll fix you up a basket of authentic Mexican desserts. To thank you for making me practice my Spanish again."

She grins at him and wiggles in her seat again. “If you’re joking I’ll find you and sit on you until you pee!” she throws a cookie crumb at him, her eyes crinkled up in a wide smile.

Engineer dodges the cookie crumb with a grin. “I never joke about food darlin’. I promise you that. I’ll need to dig up my old recipes but once I do I’ll put together a nice little care package for you.”

She sucks her lips into her mouth to try and hide her big grin. “Nobody’s ever called me darling before,” she says, swirling together some of the filling of the chocolate pie with the crumbly crust to make a pudding of sorts.

"I hope you don’t mind. I call just about everyone darlin’. It’s a habit I can’t seem to break. Only person I’ve got past it with is Spy I think and that’s because he threatened me last week," Engineer laughs good naturedly. "So I started callin’ him a few rude words in French I picked up."

“I don’t mind,” she spoons a bite of the concoction into her mouth with a smile. She pushes the half-eaten chocolate pie away before she can eat anymore, she’s got way too much to try to fill up on only one pie, even if it is delicious.

With her prompting, Engineer puts an array in front of her. He cuts her a slice of vanilla cake that she eats in only a couple bites and gives a little noise of glee when she sees the rainbow sprinkles inside the dough. She licks the frosting off her fingers while the Engineer sets down a heaping slice of strawberry pie.

He’s amazed by the way she eats. She’s a little bit messy, but she always takes the time to clean up between desserts. Her lips and tongue are dyed bright pink from the strawberries, as well as her fingertips where she picked up some of the dropped berries and popped them in her mouth.

She has to sit back after scraping the remnants of a generous slice of pecan pie off the plate and into her mouth. The tight belts she wears on her suit are starting to feel a little uncomfortable. With a few clicks, she undoes both the heavy-duty suspenders and the utility belt and drops the whole thing to the floor.

With a quiet “oof” she adjusts in her seat in a way that Engie knows all too well. But her suit is baggy enough that it masquerades whatever she looks like underneath, and it makes him anxious with anticipation.

Engineer sets a bowl of ice cream in front of her next. It’s vanilla, piled high with chocolate chips and sprinkles and chocolate sauce, all topped off with a mountain of real whipped cream he made earlier that day and two juicy, syrupy cherries. It’s meant as a sort of palate cleanser, something to refresh her after all the pastries she’s been consuming.

She’s overjoyed to have a whole bowl of ice cream to herself, and wastes no time emptying the bowl, bite after bite of the cold dessert heaped with sugary treats cooling off her throat and settling heavy inside her.

By the time she’s tipped the bowl back to drink what melted, Engie already has a big slice of buttermilk pie in front of her. She presses the heel of her hand against her midsection, but by the time Engie tries to discreetly peer past the table to catch a glimpse of where exactly the line of her belly lies inside the suit, her hand has already left.

“I’m pretty full,” her face has lit up pink, but her claim to fullness doesn’t stop her from taking a bite off the end of the slice of pie.

Engineer feels his heart sink. If she’s full enough to be bringing it up is she planning on slowing down? Is that her way of saying this is her last piece so thanks, no more?

He cuts another slice of cherry pie anyway, watching her eat her way through the piece he’d given her just in case. His fears are proven unfounded as she reaches for it immediately after cleaning her mouth and fingers of the remnants of her last bite.

“Don’t make fun of me,” she waves her fork at him with a cheekful of cherries. She swallows her mouthful and adjusts her suit again, but she’s too quick for Engie to steal any looks.

"I’d never!" Engineer says, raising a hand to his chest like he’s been struck, gasping in over-exaggerated shock and hurt. "Ma’am I don’t know what sort of boys you been hanging out with but I will assure you I am a true gentleman. I would never make fun of a lady."

He can’t get through it without laughing, making her face light up with a pleased grin he could get used to seeing every day. It makes him want to lean forward and kiss the little smear of cherry syrup off her lips and take the opportunity to feel her swelling belly through her suit. But he resists the temptation, knowing better than to overstep those boundaries. Any moves being made here will have to be initiated by her.

She licks it off instead and gives her plate to Engie to be filled with whatever he sees fit. He comes back with three thick, fluffy brownies that she doesn’t even take her time eating. The chocolate is so gooey and heavy that she has to heap ice cream on them to help them down. She’s starting to feel a little bit tight around the middle, but there are still some desserts she hasn’t gotten to try yet.

Shifting again until she’s crosslegged, this time she catches Engineer’s subtle attempt to try and see her stomach through her suit. She shoves her hands down into the space in the middle of her crossed legs to try and masquerade whatever might be visible through the suit.

“Don’t look, you’ll laugh,” she pulls on the front of her suit to put some space between it and her body.

Engineer blushes, knowing he’s been caught. “Don’t worry. Laughing is the last thing I’m going to be doing. I just wanted to see how full you were getting.” He realizes this probably sounds pretty odd as soon as the words are out of his mouth and he hurries to backtrack. “I mean, you’re starting to look a little uncomfortable and I was just looking to see if I can help.”

She wiggles again and looks down at her lap. “You watched all the others get really big,” she says without any shame in her voice. “Because you like it?”

"Y-yeah. I did." Engineer says bashfully. The last person who was this unashamed was Demo and he was actively trying to seduce Engie. Pyro has an innocence to her, despite how fearsome she is on the field, that’s caught him off guard and left him a little unsure of how to react to her.

“Why?” she asks and grabs another sugar cookie to nibble while things settle.

Engie gives a little whine in the back of his throat. He hasn’t been very good at answering that question no matter how times he’s asked. He tries to justify it or think about it, but there’s really no rhyme or reason to it. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully with a shrug. “Gosh I wish I could tell you, but I just don’t know why.”

She looks thoughtful, like she’s trying to apply some logic to it, and hums to herself. “When I was little, we never got to eat a lot,” she says, and starts mashing half of the cookie into crumbs on her plate. “I lived in an orphanage with a hundred other girls so there wasn’t a lot of food to go around. We got two meals a day. I was a really skinny girl. And then I grew up there because nobody wanted me so I left, and then I was homeless, and I was still skinny.”

Engineer isn’t sure where she’s going with this story, but he can feel his heart simultaneously breaking and filling up with the desire to feed her even more.

“So when I was picked up by Mann and I got paid so much, I spend most of it on food. I don’t have any family to give money to, I don’t even have friends. So I get to keep it and I spent a lot of it on food. I started to gain weight, but I wasn’t embarrassed or anything. It felt really nice. It makes me feel safe. Is it kind of like that for you?”

"Well, not exactly." Engineer says, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I’ve never not had enough food. My dear old dad and his dear old dad were both real rich. So was I. We always had more then enough food to go around. I mean really more than enough, we had so much food it was going bad on the shelves because we just couldn’t eat it all. So I never went hungry.

"But I was raised mostly by nannies who were sometimes part time cooks and housekeepers. So I spent a lot of time in the kitchen, looking at all that good food go to waste while they cooked whatever my ma had asked for that night. I wasn’t allowed to help cook with the real food, but the stuff we had that rarely got touched I got to practice my cooking with and feed it to the staff if they were willing to try it. I found out real quick how satisfying it was to see them all eat as much of that food as they wanted. When I made something good they’d go back for second and thirds and just keep eating until it was all gone. It made me real proud to see them all sitting there rubbing their bellies, telling me how good my cooking was. Seeing them happy made me happy. And as I got older I started to realize how good they looked when they’d all eaten a little more than they could really handle." he says, blushing hotly.

Remembering his favorite nanny sitting in her chair in the kitchen with James, the gardener, after a big lunch he’d cooked. Both of them more than a little bloated, happily rubbing their full bellies before getting up and going back to work. He’d been fourteen at the time and more turned on than he’d ever been before. He’d hidden in his room to jerk off (twice) and couldn’t look either of them in the eye for almost two weeks afterwards.

She’s sitting forward with her elbows on the table, her chin propped up on her hands and a wide, quiet sort of smile on her face. She doesn’t feel so embarrassed about her belly anymore.

“Your Spanish is better than you think it is,” she says and flicks a chocolate chip at him.

He laughs nervously. “It’s coming back to me, that’s for sure. It’s like riding a bike I guess. You’ll remember how to do it eventually, even if you wobble a little at the start.”

He realizes she’s giving him an odd look as he finished the metaphor and it hits him that she might not have any idea what he’s talking about.

"You’ve never ridden a bike before, have you?" he asks, making a note to buy her an adult size pink princess bike with tassles on the handles.

She shakes her head. “There was only one bike for all the girls. I never got a turn.”

Indicating the buttermilk pie again, Engie fetches her a new slice, bigger than the last one. It’s thick and cool and sweet, kind of like cheesecake but sweeter. The top is a little crispy and it tastes faintly like lemons and cream. She’s definitely feeling tight now, she _could_ stop comfortably at this point. But she wouldn’t dare, not after Engie told her such a touching story.

She does sit back in her seat though, and the Engineer holds his breath when she grabs for the zipper hidden under a fold of red rubber, and pulls it down.

He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting, but whatever expectations he did have are blown out of the water at the sight of her. She’s very clearly not wearing a bra, the small swell of her breasts contained under a thin tank top. Her nipples are so dark that he can just barely see them through the fabric, and it makes heat slither into his cheeks. She has more freckles on her chest, neck and shoulders (where did she get all those freckles if she never takes the suit off?)

But even better than her very visible breasts is her belly. It looks soft and pillowy, with a considerable layer of pudge that probably rivals Engineer’s. There’s a little dip in the middle of the bottom of her tummy, pointing straight up towards her belly button, but that’s all he can see beyond the hem of her tight shirt. She’s clearly full, the top of her belly has rounded out just slightly, but she could get so much bigger. It almost looks like she’s hiding something in her shirt, because the pudge at the bottom is a few inches lower than the top of her tummy. He wants to see her stomach completely round out.

Now that he has a goal in mind he starts piling more plates with food. Apple pie with more ice cream on the side, the whole thing smothered in caramel sauce comes next, followed by a plate of s’mores he made with the help of the base furnace. She’s going to look beautiful with marshmallow smeared all over her face, he can’t wait.

It doesn’t just get on her face, it gets on her fingers and her collarbone and somehow it winds up in her curls. He has to give her a look over her shoulder when she scolds an invisible unicorn for getting all messy with such unwavering certainty that he almost expects to see one standing there. He gets an odd, queasy sort of chill as he remembers that as sweet and innocent as she seems, she’s still technically the raging on-fire lunatic that barbeques blu’s on a daily basis. And sometimes red’s if they’re caught in the crossfire. She doesn’t have a lot of discretion.

He helps her clean off with a wet towel and happy laughs. When he’s squatted next to her trying to work a marshmallow stain out of her shirt, she sees the way his belly presses over his belt. “Hey,” she says like she’s come to an epiphany, and grabs at the roll of fat without shame. “You’re chubby too!”

"Yeah I am!" Engineer says happily, knowing she doesn’t mean it as an insult. "Always have been. Told you we had too much food in the house when I was a boy. And I always had to clear my plate. And my second plate. And my dessert plate. Habit sort of stuck with me."

Her smile fades when he stands up, and she can’t see it anymore. “I never new,” she fiddles with the bottom of her shirt. “Your overalls hide it. Take them off? I want to see.”

Engineer’s face lights up redder than his uniform shirt. He toys with the clasps on his overalls. “Well alright. But you need to turn around. I don’t undress in front of pretty girls before we’ve been on at least three dates.”

“You turn around!” she grins and covers her face with her hands. “Do you think I’m pretty really? Balloonicorn says I’m pretty but he’ll say anything nice to get me to share my dessert.”

“‘Course you’re pretty!” Engineer exclaims. “Prettiest girl I ever seen. Prettiest girl in the whole state, maybe the whole country! And I don’t lie. Lyin’s bad for the soul you know.”

“No stop it!” She grins and laughs and uncrosses her legs to kick her feet a little. She removes her hands when she feels Engie’s hand on her shoulder, and looks him over. He’s wearing an unadorned white tee shirt tucked into jeans, the only point of interest on him now is the fancy belt and shiny buckle underneath the fold of his belly. Her lips spread into a smile again and she touches his tummy with a flat palm. “You’re pretty too.”

"Darn right I am. Second prettiest boy in the whole war." Engineer agrees, loving the way her smile lights up her face when he tells her she’s right. Her nose crinkles a little when she laughs and her eyes are sparkling brighter than a welding torch. She really is the prettiest thing he’s seen in a long, long time.

“You kissed all the other boys. Do you kiss girls too?” she asks, her smile turning a little bashful.

Engineer nods, leaning down a little when she kneels up a little bit. He hopes he’s reading this right because he really wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her lips and her crinkled nose and her freckled cheeks and her too-big ears and her neck and shoulders. Maybe see if she’s got any more freckles under her shirt or if the skin on her soft, tan belly is clear and unblemished so he can cover it in kiss marks and little nibbles.

He’s not surprised to find that she kisses like a little girl. Closed-mouthed and gentle, with consistent pressure. She puts her hands on his chest and kisses him twice, three times, each kiss just as sweet and childlike as the one before it. She sits back down in her seat and looks up at him, but she can’t maintain eye contact for more than a second before she crushes her face into his belly with a happy whine.

“That was my first kiss,” she mumbles into his soft tummy.

He isn’t shocked. He should be, considering she’s a pretty, grown up woman. But he isn’t. She’s so sweet and innocent, he doubts she’s done more than hold hands her whole life.

It makes him swell with pride to know he’s her first kiss. It’s like a badge of honor, better than any medal he could get in any army. She’s chosen to share this with him and he’s going to fully appreciate it.

He bends down and kisses the top of her soft curls before ruffling them with a good natured laugh. “Then I should thank you. It’s a real honor. I just hope it was better than my first kiss.”

“Better than any kiss ever,” she says, sliding her hands down his chest to hold his sides. She sinks her fingers into the fat there with a smile and wiggles his hips in her hands. “I need more cake.”

"Yes you do," He agrees. He pulls away a little so he can reach it but not enough that she can’t keep holding on to him. She’s going to have to let go to eat but while he’s preparing the birthday cake there’s no reason for her to let him go.

"I had my first kiss when I was six." he tells her, setting the plate down on the table. "Out in the church yard. Little girl who’s pigtails I pulled every Sunday. She came over, kissed me on the lips then threw a handful of dirt in my face."

“Definitely better than dirt,” she nods and rather than take the cake from the Engineer, she opens her mouth expectantly. It’s still dyed red from the cherries and strawberries. Engie grins and grabs a fork. He spears the edge of the cake and brings it to her mouth, feeding it gently through her full red lips.

She doesn’t let go of his hips once through the whole slice of cake. She watches him mostly, watches the way he looks at her with affection. But occasionally while chewing she leans forward to nuzzle her nose into his belly with a happy little hum.

Her belly is already pretty full, but she’s got nothing against the idea of eating yummy deserts until she can’t sit upright anymore. Engie likes it, and she likes Engie, and moreover she likes dessert. She can feel her tummy getting tighter with every bite, she can’t tell yet if she likes it or not.

She sits back in her seat after the cake is gone and rubs a hand over her belly. There isn’t a noticeable difference to the curve from before – not from the outside, anyway. She definitely feels a little bigger from the inside. She gives a burp and a little hiccup, and shrugs out of the sleeves of her shirt.

Engineer can hardly believe her eyes when he lays eyes on her arms. They’re thick with muscle, almost as thick as his own, and covered in freckles from shoulder to fingertips. Her biceps are probably only smaller than his by a couple inches.

"You and me should work out together." he says, being a little daring and running his fingers up her arms, feeling the hard muscle under her skin.

She flushes and looks down with a little smile. “You don’t think they’re… gross?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all! You look tough. I always liked tough girls, that’s why I pulled Sally’s pigtails everyday in Church. You could probably beat me arm wrestlin’ couldn’t you? That’s great, nothin’ better than a girl who can take care of herself. And you’ve got the perfect combination of soft belly and strong arms. You probably give the best hugs huh?”

She jumps up out of her chair to demonstrate just how well she gives hugs, but she underestimates how hard it’ll be to stand up with a bigger belly and wobbles. Engie has to grab her around the waist to keep her from toppling over backwards, and she falls forward into him. He gasps a little when the hard part of her belly presses against him, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it and wraps her arms around his shoulders to give him a tight squeeze.

She’s a few inches taller than him, which puts him at the perfect height to rest his head on her shoulder. He slides his hands over her belly and her waist to meet behind her back and mirror her tight embrace. He doesn’t squeeze as much as she does, he’s too worried about making her sick. But he holds her and is held by her and he thinks if he’s never held by anyone ever again that’d be just fine because no hug can live up to this one.

“You’re going to make balloonicorn jealous,” she says, rubbing her nose across the fuzz on Engie’s temple. “He thinks he’s my wife.”

"Well he can be your wife if I can be your boyfriend." Engineer says before he can stop himself. It’s actually a nice idea. He hasn’t had a girlfriend or boyfriend or anything like that in a long time. And if he was going to do that with anyone Pyro would be his first choice.

She leans back like he caught on fire, her eyes wide, and nearly falls out of his embrace backwards.

“Are you serious?” She shouts. Her face has turned so red her freckles are almost invisible.

"I told you I don’t lie." Engineer reminds her, smiling. She looks so cute when she blushes. "Lying makes the angels sad, that’s what my pastor always told me. I wouldn’t risk that."

Her mouth hangs agape as she stares at him, and slowly has to sit down. She stares up at him and then looks beside him at about her eye-level, but when he looks down nothing is there. Her expression doesn’t change as she stares back up at him again.

“You’re going to make me cry shut up and get more cake,” she covers her face with her hands again.

"Of course." Engineer says, a little nervously. He might have pushed the girl too far. She’s so sweet after all, she wouldn’t know how to turn a boy down. She’s probably never had to before.

To make up for it he cuts her an extra large piece of tres leches cake, hoping to make her smile that cute crinkle-nosed smile again.

She only takes one bite before her eyes well up with tears and she has to hide her face again. She covers her face with one hand and gropes blindly for Engie. He takes a step forward into range, and she drags him forward by his belt so she can hug him again and rub her face on his belly.

“I’m sorry, pretend I’m not crying,” she sniffles. “The cake is really good.”

"I know darlin’ I didn’t think that’s why you were crying." he says, rubbing her back with one hand, smoothing her hair with the other. "But I do hate to see a pretty girl cry. You wanna tell me about it or should I guess?"

“Nobody ever wants me,” she whimpers into his tummy and her shoulders shake a little. “Nobody wanted me when I was little and nobody even wants me as a friend now.”

Engineer sighs. They’ve all been terribly cruel to Pyro without even knowing it. It breaks his heart to see how much pain she’s been in without any of them noticing.

"I’m your friend," he says. "I’ll be your _best_ friend if you’d like. And the others just need to get to know you. The language barrier makes things tough but once they see how great you are they’ll all want to be your friends too.”

She shakes her head against his belly. “I don’t need the rest of them. That’s too many and I don’t even like most of them. I hate Scout and Spy hates me, Heavy calls me _‘thing’_ and Medic scares me. I like Sniper… I like Demoman. I like you the most.”

"Spy hates everyone, and Heavy’s grasp of English ain’t so great." Engineer says, feeling the need to defend his friends as much as he can. "I like you too. A whole lot. You can stick with me from now on alright? No need to be by yourself anymore."

She nods and squeezes his middle even tighter. “Did you really mean the boyfriend thing?” she tips her head up so her chin is on his belly and she can look him in the eye.

Engineer smiles and continues to pet her dark curls. “I did. I’d be honored to be your boyfriend if you’d like.”

She whines and presses her face into his tummy again. “You’re gonna have to fight balloonicorn for it,” she laughs, muffled.

"I think I’ll win. You’ve been feeding him sweets all night so I know his weakness now. I’ll bake him a cake and we’ll be all set," Engineer says, starting to wonder what he’s gotten himself into. Pyro is a sweet girl, charming and innocent and beautiful, but she’s clearly not all there. This could be dangerous. But it could also be wonderful, and he’s never been one to quit because something got a little risky.

She grins and sits back and wipes her tears. She nods and bites her lower lip, closing her eyes when Engie gently wipes the rest of the tears from her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I ruined the flow of everything,” she rubs her eyes. “I want to keep going. For you.”

“You don’t _have_ to just for me if you don’t want,” Engie tells her gently.

“It’s not just for you,” Pyro sits up straighter and holds her head up indignantly. “It’s not exactly like dessert is torture!”

Engineer grins and cuts her a fresh slice of pie, adding whipped cream and sprinkles, because why not? She is his girlfriend after all, she deserves the best.

"If it were I’d be up for gettin’ captured by the blu’s a lot more." he says, setting it down. "They can feed me all the cake they want, I’ll never talk."

The whole mood of the room changes at that point. She seems happier than before, if that’s even possible. But it’s a different kind of happy, it’s like she’s relaxed into her happiness. It doesn’t seem quite as effervescent or distracted as before.

She keeps staring at Engie, but he doesn’t really mind. It’s nicer at least than being stared at by her soulless black lenses. Her eyes crinkle and her mouth curls up like a cat and she looks at him. She really _looks_ at him, with something more than just lust or gratitude. It’s like she’s looking past his skin directly into his heart, searching desperately for the affection she’s been starved.

He’s more than happy to supply her with that affection in the form of bountiful desserts and little kisses between bites whenever she paws at him.

He likes watching her eat, now more than before. Every bite feels like a present he’s giving her, like another chance to dote on this sweet, pretty little thing he’s found and gets to keep all to himself. She looks at him while she’s cleaning her fingers after finishing a plate and will giggle and blush and he can’t help but lean in and kiss her.

She finishes off a slice of carrot cake and another handful of cookies, and she doesn’t even seem to acknowledge this ‘baloonicorn’ she’d been setting desserts out for before. Some part of Engie is concerned that if she doesn’t pay attention to the delusion, her own mind could turn it frightening or violent, but he won’t pretend to know anything about it. Besides, she’s too cute to distract when she’s sucking the strawberries off the top of the tres leches cake or filling her cheeks with gooey brownies.

The break that she got to take while they were talking has given her the ability to power through most of what Engie sits down in front of her. Even if she does start to feel tight again, most of the previous round has settled low enough that she can keep going even when her shirt starts to feel tight.

She has absolutely no shame when she lifts the shirt up over the curve of her belly to release some of the pressure, and angles her hips up so she can pop the button on her jeans.

"Look at you," Engineer says with a low whistle, pleased to find that the freckles continue all the way down her tummy. He looks her up and down, staring at her beautiful round, though still very soft belly. "You look cuter than a teddy bear."

She swivels in her chair with a happy smile and stands up to step out of the rest of her suit. He has to support her so that she doesn’t fall over, and sneaks a little rub to her soft belly as she shucks the heavy rubber and thick boots. He notes that her feet are a little bit too big proportionally to the rest of her body – just like her ears and hands. She’s like a mouse. A chubby, happy mouse.

When she sits back down, she crosses her legs under her and lifts the bottom of her belly so it rests more comfortably on top of her soft thighs. She gives a little hiccup and a deep-bellied burp that lights her ears up pink.

He supplies her with a pie she hasn’t tried yet, resembling pumpkin but made with sweet potatoes instead. Her face instantly lights up upon the first bite.

“I know this one!” she bounces slightly in her seat. “They made this when I was little, for Christmas!” she shovels an even bigger bite into her mouth with wide eyes, and the next time she talks it’s very muffled behind pie. “It’s a lot better than how they made it.”

Engineer beams with pride and cuts her another slice. If there’s anything better than seeing someone truly, thoroughly stuffed up to their ears, it’s knowing that they got that way with his food. Almost as good as that is having his cooking compared to someone else’s and having it be deemed superior.

She eats two slices, and then three. The filling is heavy and sweet – but not _too_ sweet – with a little bit of cinnamon to give it a hint of spice, and it’s so smooth and thick that she doesn’t need to waste much time chewing. She barely has to mash it against the roof of her mouth before she can swallow it down.

Engineer watches in awe as she eats half the whole pie without slowing down. She occasionally rubs at her belly as it fills her up, but half the tin is visible under the bottom of the pie before she sets her fork down and sits back in her seat with a satisfied groan.

"Well if you like it that much I’m goin’ to have to make it again." Engineer exclaims happily, looking at the half empty tin. "Maybe durin’ the Christmas truce I’ll make you a special Christmas dinner and we’ll have that for dessert. Would you like that?"

She burps again and rubs both her hands on her belly with a nod. She hiccups again, which results in another, smaller burp, and she has to adjust the bite of her jeans zipper on her soft lower belly. “You rubbed the others’ tummies, right?” she grimaces as a loud gurgle sounds off a cramp, and she burps a little more air out of her belly. “Can you rub mine?”

"Of course!" Engineer says, maybe a little too eagerly. He reaches out and places his hands on her middle, rubbing gentle circles over the expanding flesh. There’s still softness there, he can feel it when he presses down, but less than before. He can feel the hardness beneath the layer of fat, more obvious now than before, and for once doesn’t feel the usual spark of arousal that follows. Instead there’s only pride and a warm fondness for the woman beneath his hands.

She sighs happily and tips her head back, cradling the bottom of her belly to keep it away from the zipper. Her lips curl into a lazy smile and she tips her hips forward so she can stick her belly up a little more.

“Do you have anything I can put over my lap?” she asks, struggling to fold her jeans down so they don’t pinch her tummy.

Engineer looks around nervously. He has a blanket he could give her but it’ll likely be too warm. He could give her a jacket or a work shirt that he doesn’t wear anymore because it isn’t part of the uniform. He instead decides on a spare bedsheet, something light that will give her all the coverage she wants.

When she asks for his help tucking it into the top of her jeans to really cover up the zipper completely, things get a little complicated. His kneejerk reaction is to be aroused by the prospect of putting his fingers down her pants, even if it’s only by an inch. But his heart instantly battles with his gut for the dominant emotion, reminding him that Pyro isn’t the kind of girl to rush that with. He doesn’t even know her _name_.

Working together, they handle her belly and get the sheet tucked around her and he gets his libido in check. Pyro instantly seems more comfortable, her pants now open to allow her growing belly plenty of room but her dignity remains intact. To celebrate their success Engineer makes up another sundae, thinking she’s going to want something light after all the heavy pastry.

She takes her time with the ice cream. She picks at toppings and flicks whipped cream at him and kisses sprinkles off his lips. Every one of the kisses feels sweeter than the last one.

Eventually she asks for help to finish the last half and he gets to spoon feed her the sweet cold treat, and watch her lips close around the spoon. She adjusts her belly a couple more times, prompting him to give her more gentle belly rubs.

“Oof, I haven’t eaten this much in a long time,” she groans and smoothes her hands down her freckled tummy.

"When was the last time?" Engie prompts, rubbing her belly in up and down strokes rather than circles, following the curve of her belly. "Tell me about it."

“I don’t really remember the last time… but I remember the first time,” she sits back to relax and let things settle again while Engie kneels beside her to rub her down. “After I got my first paycheck from Mann. I couldn’t believe how much money he gave me, I spent almost $250 on food, and I ate half of it in one sitting. I’d never gotten to eat like that before, it was the best and worst feeling ever. I didn’t have anyone to rub my tummy like I do now.”

"Does it feel good?" Engineer asks, still rubbing her belly, putting a little more pressure into it so he can feel the softness yield beneath his strong strokes.

“Mmh, yes,” she smiles and loops her arms over the back of her chair sticking her belly out even farther. “I gained almost five pounds from that one meal, and I liked it, a lot. So I started to binge once a week until I got to this size, I like how I feel like this. It feels perfect.”

Engineer grins and leans in to give her another kiss. “You _look_ perfect. I really mean that, I’ve never seen a girl as pretty as you.”

“You come from Texas,” she says, looking down to watch his hand move. “Texas is full of nothing but pretty girls with big blonde hair and skinny waists.”

"Exactly. And not one of them is as gorgeous as you." The Texan assures her. He leans forward to rest his head on her shoulder while he rubs her belly. "Blond hair and blue eyes and tiny waists, they all look the same. None of them have the stars in their eyes like you do, darlin’."

She covers her face with a whine, she feels warm and tingly, like all of the butterflies in the world all came to live under her skin. Nobody’s ever talked to her like this before. Nobody ever really talks to her _at all_.

Most of the rest of the team won’t even talk to each other when she’s in the room. They all go silent and stare, sometimes they even leave the room. The only time they ever pay her any attention is on the battlefield, and that’s only because they know it’s to their advantage.

She’s never been spoken to like this in all her life, and she’s reeling trying to understand it. As a child she was frequently told by the other girls that she was too stupid, too strange, too ugly to be adopted. She bets if Engie had been an adult when she was a child, he would have adopted her. She bets he would have made just as good a daddy as a boyfriend.

“Okay, I think I’m ready for more,” she says after her feet have stopped kicking with glee. “Hurry though or my face might explode there’s too much blood in it.”

Engineer laughs and turns his head to press a kiss to her jaw before pulling away to get her more dessert. He makes an ice cream sandwich, with cookies and ice cream on either side of the thick, gooey brownie.

She’s fascinated by the combination of textures and flavors and attacks it energetically with her spoon. Her belly is feeling sort of cramped, but she’d eat for days to please Engineer at this point. As far as she’s concerned, her entire world has shrunk down to him. But she knows better than to express this – the last time she was open about her obsession with someone was the BLU Spy, and he nearly killed her for it.

Pyro continues to take bites from the half-eaten sweet potato pie while Engie fetches a cake he calls “hummingbird cake.” It smells like bananas and tastes like pineapple and spices, with a rich cream cheese frosting that has her sighing.

Two slices disappear into her gradually growing belly. With every dessert she packs away, her belly rounds out just a little farther. Engineer can’t wait to see it completely round, packed to the absolute max.

He can imagine it, her belly hard, like she’s swallowed a beach ball. Heavy (if small) breasts resting atop the curve, allowed to sag around the bulge without a bra to hold them in place.

She’ll be glowing, smiling happily as she rubs her stomach, proud of what she’s done and happy with all the good food she’s eaten. He’ll lean over and kiss her, rubbing her belly like a proud father might rub his pregnant wife’s baby bump. Only this is so much better because he got to watch it happen all at once.

He soothes her cramps away with expert gentle touches and overwhelming fluttery kisses on her cheeks and shoulders that make her squirm with delight. He rubs her through a mild case of the hiccups, and smiles every time her belly jumps. She burps after every hiccup, the spasms accidentally causing her to swallow air, but as annoying and slightly painful the ordeal is, Engie is clearly charmed by the squeaky noises and shallow burps.

She continues to take bites from the sweet potato pie whenever he takes the time to gather her a new dessert. Over the course of a slice of apple pie, two brownies, a heaping slice of carrot cake and another few sugar cookies, two thirds of the sweet potato pie has disappeared into her.

Her belly is really starting to get heavy. She has to sit back so it sticks up instead of rests in her lap, because no matter how far she spreads her jeans they’re still feeling very tight around her hips.

“Do you mind if I take my pants off?” she asks, chewing her bottom lip. “They kind of hurt.”

"Of course," Engineer says, helping her untuck the sheet so she can wiggle out of her jeans. They slide down to the floor easily enough once they’re past her hips, revealing white panties patterned with images of a rainbow springing out of a cloud.

Normally seeing a beautiful woman so full in so little clothing would have Engineer losing his mind with lust. But he isn’t. He isn’t even hard.

It strikes him then that he doesn’t really want to have sex with her. It’s not that she isn’t beautiful and he isn’t attracted to her. He’s as attracted to her as he is to the other mercs he’s slept with. But there’s something about her that takes sex off the table. She’s too sweet, too innocent. She’s happy and unspoiled in a way that he’s never seen before. And he could never ruin that. He’d be perfectly happy growing old and fat with her without ever laying a hand on her naked body.

And unless he’s suddenly forgotten how to read body language, it seems like – at least for now – she’d be okay with that too. She’s half naked with her shirt rucked up over her belly, and she doesn’t seem shy or demure or suggestive in the least. In fact, all she seems interested in is that damn sweet potato pie. He makes a mental note to bake several more of them, because he’s sure that she’d keep eating until well past her limit if he supplies her favorite dessert.

It’s getting harder for her to breathe. She can’t suck her belly in at all anymore, it’s tight as a drum, and she wriggles in her seat imagining what it would be like to be so much bigger.

“I look like I have a baby in my belly,” she says, patting it like a drum. “A cake baby. A cake is going to jump out of my belly button.”

Engineer imagines her pregnant. Cheeks flushed all the time, absolutely glowing with pride as she grows bigger and bigger as months go by. She’d be stunning.

She does look a little like she’s pregnant now. She’s got the size and the flush, though not much of the pregnant glow. Still, she looks beautiful, her belly full and heavy, propped up on her crossed legs. He wants to reach out and touch, not like he usually does, lust driving him forward, grabbing, rubbing, kissing, whatever he can get. This time it’s something more akin to awe that has him reaching out to gently lay his hands on Pyro’s hard belly.

Sitting on her knees again gives her the most relief from the heavy weight of her wobbling tummy. She leans forward and spoons more of the sweet potato pie into her mouth. Her belly aches, but she wants to finish it. For Engie.

Spoonfuls disappear into her mouth, and she doesn’t even really need to chew which quickens the process. She smushes the soft crust into the gooey filling so she can swallow it all down, gulping down mouthfuls that are honestly a little too much for her throat, and it leaves her gasping, but the sensation of the big mouthfuls sliding down into her packed belly has her squirming with delight.

She can hardly believe it herself when she swallows down the last mouthful of a whole pie. She huffs, pink-cheeked and gasping, as she sits back and admires the huge curve of her belly. Sucking whipped cream off her thumb, she encourages Engie to rub her cramps away.

Engineer sits down and rubs her belly, more than happy to sit and enjoy the little pleased noises she makes when the cramps ease up under his hands. She’s so beautiful he has to lean forward and kiss her again.

Her belly is firm under his hands, almost all the softness from before stretched out over her full stomach. It’s a beautiful thing, and somehow he’s surprised that it’s no different from how it feels with men. He should have expected it but somehow he’d assumed a woman would feel different. She doesn’t though, she feels and looks as good as any of the team has. Maybe even better.

Her breaths are coming in short and quick, and she gives a series of shallow burps in an effort to keep from getting the hiccups again.

“Do you think I can eat more?” she asks, drumming her fingers on her tummy. “I feel so big. I wonder if I can get bigger. Probably not too much, I feel like I’m gonna pop. Cupcakes are gonna fly out of me with sprinkles for confetti.”

"I doubt they’ll look that pretty." Engineer laughs. He continues to rub her belly, smiling down at it and glancing every so often up at her lovely face. "You can stop if you like. You look beautifully full already and I’m more than happy if you’ll let me just sit here and hold you like this."

“I think I can keep going,” she hiccups, and burps. “I want to at least try.”

So Engie supplies her as long as she’ll keep eating. She downs a brownie with some trouble, and washes it down with a couple scoops of ice cream. She has to pause to rub her belly before moving on to another few sugar cookies, and a slice of carrot cake. Her stomach feels like it’s going to rip open, gurgling loudly in her lap, but she won’t give up yet.

She almost loses everything halfway through a thick slice of vanilla cake when a sprinkle tickles the back of her throat, but she drinks some milk and continues on. Her belly is completely round by the time she finishes the slice, full from top to bottom, and Engie promises her he’d still love her belly if she stopped then. But she didn’t seem content with that just yet.

Engineer watches in amazement as she swallows down a hefty slice of strawberry pie, another heap of crumbly hummingbird cake, and another few cookies. He can’t believe she’s eaten as much as she has, and when he imagines what it’ll be like after it’s all digested and added pounds of pillowy fat to her belly and thighs, he almost faints.

He’s not sure how much more she can eat. She lookes like an overstuffed teddy bear, ready to split at the seams. One more bite and he’s sure she’ll lose it all. But she’s done so well. She’s eaten as much, if not more, than most of the guys and he couldn’t be prouder of his beautiful new girlfriend.

“Okay… I think I wanna lay down…” she pants, and rubs her belly miserably. “I definitely overdid it… I need you to rub my tummy still, but I need to lay down.”

He helps her wobble to a stand and collapse onto his bed with a heavy sigh. Her tummy trembles and shakes over her, a perfectly round globe underneath a soft layer of pudge. She can barely believe it’s actually attached to her body – this giant globe of a belly is full of nothing but cake and love.

He props a pillow under her head and she whimpers as a cramp rocks her. “I’m gonna pop,” she whines. “Did I do good? Do you like it?”

Engineer smiles and kneels on the floor beside the bed. One hand he smoothes over her belly, the other he raises to pet her soft hair.

"You did amazing. You look stunnin’ darlin’. I couldn’t be happier." he tells her with a grin, looking her up and down.

It’s not entirely true. Yes her belly is a sight to see, standing up off her like she glued a beach ball to herself and painted it tan. He’s never seen anything quite like it. But he would be just a little bit happier if he was up on the bed with her.

 She’s oblivious to his plight for a few minutes, eyes closed as she whimpers her way through a few intense cramps. He soothes her as best he can, but she doesn’t even seem to acknowledge that she’s there.

Almost fifteen minutes pass before she opens her eyes and looks down at him. She licks her lips and chews the inside of her cheek. “Do you like cuddling?” she asks.

“Do I?” he chuckles, and starts to stand up, but pauses when she holds a hand out anxiously.

“But… only cuddling. I don’t want to do the… thing that girls are supposed to do with boys,” she says, eyes wide and searching like she’s afraid to be rejected this far into the game.

"No, no" Engineer says quickly, nodding fervently. "I don’t want to either. I mean, we barely know each other. If you’ll allow me ma’am I’d like to just lay with you and hold you close."

She bites down on her lower lip with a shy nod and scooches over to give him room, her belly wobbling over her. She rolls over on her side, her tummy sandwiched between them. He crooks his arm under his head so he can rub her belly with his free palm.

For a while, she doesn’t say anything. She just looks at him with a fond sort of smile. It seems like she’s zoned out, and he wonders what kind of daydreams she’s having. When she snaps back into it, her smile widens and she giggles.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been in a bed with a boy,” she whispers.

"Well ma’am I’m honored." Engineer says, grinning wider than he has all night, which is saying something. "And I promise, I won’t do anything to jeopordize your honor. You’re in safe hands with me."

She wants to snuggle up close to him, but her belly gets in the way. She tilts forward as much as she can instead, angling her body so her tummy is pressed up against his thighs – still within easy petting reach – and her forehead is up against his chest. She tries to stay awake, but the weight of her meal and her own happiness are all lulling her into an intense desire to slip into a coma.

“You won’t be gone by morning, right?” she asks with a yawn. “You’ll stay?”

“It’s _my_ bed, darlin’,” he laughs.

She echoes his giggle tiredly. “Just making sure.”

Engineer smiles and leans forward, his soft belly pressing on hers for a moment while presses a soft kiss to the end of her nose. She giggles again, eyes slipping closed.

"I’m not going anywhere," he promises, his own eyes feeling heavy. "Never going to leave you darlin’ don’t you worry."

The last part might have been in English. He’s too tired to tell and falls asleep too quickly to remember.


	9. Engineer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is REALLY LONG

Spy’s shoes click loudly in the empty halls of the RED base. He checks his watch, it’s almost midnight. The halls are deserted, everyone either already in bed or spending their time quietly in their rooms. Which means the kitchen should be empty, and he’ll get to put his plan into action.

It wasn’t easy, getting his hands on the bag of ingredients he’s currently carrying with him. Being in the middle of the desert makes it difficult to get access to gourmet foods, but Spy is the sort of man who puts his heart and soul into everything. Including cooking.

The closer he gets to the kitchen, however, the louder he hears the shouting voices of mercenaries inside. Odd, considering the hour. He swings the door open and steps through to see Soldier and Demoman in the middle of a heated argument.

“ – first! I should get the oven first,” Demo shoves Solly’s shoulder to hold him back from the stove. “Yeh’ve got weird sleepin’ hours anyway laddie, just use it in the mornin’ when you wake up before the ill-gotten sun!”

“You can’t tell me what to do, private!” Soldier smacks away the Demoman’s hand. “I’ll fight you for it if I have to! I’m going to use it first!”

Spy sighs and sets his ingredients down on the closest surface. It looks like cooking tonight simply isn’t going to happen unless he can convince these buffoons to clear out of here.

"What are you doing up at zhis time of night?" He asks, hands on his hips. "You "gentlemen" should ‘ave been in bed ‘ours ago."

“I’m going to fight Demoman to use the stove!” Soldier barks and raises his fists like he’s about to start throwing punches.

Demo sighs and rubs his forehead, leaning backwards against the single oven in the kitchen adjacent to the team lounge. “Solly an’ I both got the same idea to fix up a meal fer Engie. To thank him for eh… cookin’ for us.” The euphemism is unnecessary in this group, but polite. “Soldier won’t listen to me when I say my ingredients go bad quicker’n his, so I need to cook ‘em first.”

“But I got to the kitchen first!” Soldier protests. “You can’t just take over the operation!”

“You were starin’ at a loaf of bread when I got here!” Demoman shouts back.

"Interesting. Well gentlemen, it appears we ‘ave a bit of a problem." Spy says, tugging his cigarette case out of his pocket. "Because I ‘ad the exact same idea."

Soldier’s fists turn to point at Spy, ready to fist-fight him for the stove too. Demoman only heaves a sigh and crosses his arms over his chest. “We’re at an impasse, we are,” he shakes his head.

Soldier bellows, “I’ll fight both of you! I’ll fight you with both hands tied behind my back! Better yet I’ll fight you each with one hand! At the same time!”

"I think, it is only fair that we take turns using the facilities," Spy says, ignoring Soldier. "I ‘ave no problem waiting for the two of you to finish your monstrosities. Then I can make something our mutual friend, can enjoy without fear of food poisoning."

“I’ll have ye know I’m a fine chef,” Demo says defensively, still guarding the stove with his body. “And I got meself good ingredients. It’s Solly that Engie has tae worry about.”

Spy spares Soldier a side-ways glance. He has no doubt the man has never cooked anything in his life. As far as he’s aware, Soldier subsists on canned goods and smoked meat unless force fed something else by Engineer.

"It is not your skills I question, Cyclops." he says. "But the sort of cuisine you ‘ave experience preparing. Scottish meals can ‘ardly be called ‘food’."

Demo narrows his eyes. “Alright, Solly, fight ‘im.”

Before Soldier can pounce, the door swings open and Medic comes walking in, holding a clipboard and looking very distracted. He sees the men in his peripheral vision and stops walking so abruptly he drops his pen.

It’s quite a scene. Demo is almost sitting on the oven, Spy is staring dimly into middle-ground, and Soldier is holding up ineffectual fists. He didn’t even expect one man to be in the kitchen at this hour, let alone three.

“Gentlemen,” he nods awkwardly at them. He gets the feeling he interrupted something as he picks up his pen and walks between the small group to fetch some milk from the refrigerator. “Vhat on earth are you all doing in zhe kitchen at midnight? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

"I ‘ad intended to use the free space to prepare a special meal for our mutual friend, the Engineer." Spy explains, after exhaling a puff of smoke. "Unfortunately, it would seem I am not alone in my endeavors. These idiots ‘ad the same idea."

Medic stands up with a beaker of milk and regards the other men in the room. “Interesting… I’m doing zhe same.”

“Were all of you in on this except me?” Spy splutters.

“I haven’t been in communication vith Soldier or Demoman,” Medic says, swirling the milk at eye-level. “I’ve been marinating beef in my lab for zhe past three days. It vill be ready to prepare tomorrow morning.”

Spy stubs the cigarette out on the counter beside him, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “This is ridiculous. We can’t all show up at ‘is door, pushing and shoving to get ‘im our meal before anyone else. It will turn into a blood bath. And we all know Medic would win.”

“I would win!” Soldier amends.

Medic pushes his glasses up with a thoughtful expression. “Vhy can’t ve?” he suggests.

“I just said – ” Spy starts with a huff.

“No, I mean vhy don’t ve all four feed him?” Medic continues, crossing his arms in thought and pinching the beaker to his side. “Zhere’s no reason to be shy, ve all know vhy ve’re cooking for him. Because of vhat he did for us. Vhy don’t ve return zhe favor? If all four of us prepare him meals… he’s certainly a polite man. He seems like zhe sort to clear his plate.”

Demoman’s face lights up with realization. “All of them,” he grins.

“I don’t get it,” Soldier grunts, looking between the men.

"We are going to do to Engineer what ‘e did to us," Spy says, rolling his eyes. "But I do not think just the four of us will be enough to truly fill ‘im up. Per’aps we should consider calling in some more recruits?"

“I bet the others would wanna get in on it,” Demo looks elated. He even steps away from the stove to draw nearer to the other two schemers. Soldier closes in on the stove protectively, but nobody pays him any mind. “I know Scout would. Medic, you can convince Heavy tae do anythin’. I can get Sniper involved without a fuss… but I’m not goin’ near Pyro.”

"Nor am I." Spy agrees.

He thinks for a minute before breaking out in a wide smirk. “What we need is someone fearless. Someone who is not afraid of any fight, who is prepared to run straight into danger without a second thought.” he pauses to glance at the others before directing his gaze at Soldier. “If only someone like that were around to ‘elp us. For Engineer’s sake.”

Soldier stands bolt upright and nearly smacks himself in the face with a salute. “I am the man for the job! I will fetch Mr. Pyro!”

“Excellent,” Medic claps his hands together. “I have to return zhese things to my lab, but I’ll return swiftly. We should be able to feed him by this time tomorrow.”

Soldier and Medic both leave the kitchen, leaving Demo and Spy in the room alone. Demo helps the Spy arrange his food into the fridge where it’ll be safe from harm and the two of them chuckle over their speculations of the look on Engie’s face when they all show up at his door with a parade of food for him.

Soldier comes back only a few minutes later with the news that Pyro was asleep in the Engineer’s bed. “I could only see him from behind, but he was very naked!” he declares. “I couldn’t have extracted him without waking Engie, and the mission would have been compromised!”

“It’s not a problem,” Spy waves his hand. “We’ll get ‘im later.”

By the time Medic returns, he’s carrying a crockpot with him. Nobody knows where he got it, but they all get the same nauseating feeling that he doesn’t normally use it for food. He plugs it back in over the stove and wipes his sweaty hands on his pants.

“Now isn’t a very good time to start,” Medic says what they’re all thinking, and adjusts his glasses. “Tomorrow is Saturday, I think we should all wake up bright and early to begin. Ten o’ clock? We’ll all meet here. I’ll bring Heavy, Demoman you will bring Sniper and Scout, Soldier will bring Pyro and Spy… just bring yourself.”

“Why can’t we start now?” Soldier’s whine sounds like sand paper.

“Because if we start now, ve’ll be too exhausted by zhe time ve finish to feed Engineer,” Medic sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Ten o’ clock. Don’t be late, and don’t forget to bring Pyro.”

The men all go their separate ways for the night, excited for what the day may bring tomorrow.

===

Unfortunately, they did not take into account just how small the kitchen is. Soldier is the first to arrive perfectly punctual with Pyro in tow, clad from head to toe in her usual suit, but without all of the bulky unnecessary belts. She takes a seat cross-legged on the island counter and sways from side to side to entertain herself. Soldier had told the Engineer that he needed to borrow the firebug for some testing, to see if Pyro could set his rockets on fire mid-flight. Engie had only laughed and bid them good luck, too tired to bother with any warnings that it probably wasn’t a very good idea to try that. They’re grownups, they’ll figure it out.

Slowly, the others trickle in. Sniper looks absolutely exhausted, clutching a mug of coffee like a lifeline, squinting in the fluorescent lights of the kitchen. Scout looks similarly unrested, wrapped up in the blanket from his bunk and scowling at the group. Demo looks wide awake, grinning happily at his teammates.

Medic arrives shortly after with Heavy, and that’s when they find out just how small the kitchen is. He has to wedge himself between the sink and the fridge to minimize how much space he takes up when Spy finally enters the kitchen last.

“You wanna explain why the heck we’re all here?” Scout asks crabbily, grabbing for Sniper’s coffee to take a sip.

"Shut up." Spy snaps, once again taking a cigarette out of his case and lighting it. Back home he always starts the day with a cigarette and coffee. Here, with the sludge they serve, he’s had to cut down to just the cigarette.

"Gentleman, I know some of you are unaware of why we’ve dragged you all ‘ere on our day off when we would all usually be doing our best to avoid each other. The answer is simple. Engineer," he pauses for dramatic effect. "Over the last several weeks each of us ‘as ‘ad an encounter with Engineer of a… certain, sensitive nature. Some of us in more intimate ways than others. But they ‘ave all shared one thing. Food."

He starts pacing, his back straight and head held high, like he’s a general explaining a dangerous battle his men are about to embark on.

"Engineer ‘as been kind enough to share ‘is time and cooking with us. And it is our mission now to return ‘is kindness." he stops in front of the assembled mercs and grins. "In short, we plan on reversing our roles. It’s time for us to feed the Engineer. Understood?"

The gathered crowd starts to murmur to one another in interest. Sniper and Demo share little, mischievous smiles. Scout shifts from foot to foot, already more awake. Heavy is looking down at Medic to gauge his interest, and mirrors his expression of carefully calculated attention. Pyro is silent on the counter, but she’s bouncing in place.

“That sounds… pretty great actually,” Sniper crosses his arms. “I’ve had half a croc in me fridge for a while now, I bet he could help me get rid of it.”

“I can make the fries my ma makes!” Scout jumps up on the counter beside Pyro. “And a burger! Everyone loves burgers!”

Pyro says something enthusiastically, and while it’s muffled it comes out pretty clearly as ‘churros!’

"One problem." Heavy says, his low rumble catching everyone’s attention. "Not all of us can fit in kitchen at once. Especially can not cook and share one stove, one sink, small counters and utensils. Is too cramped. And is not fair that we do not all get chance to cook."

“Zhat’s a good point. Besides, zhe Engineer vill notice if all of us are missing,” Medic rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Heavy, perhaps you could go and distract him for a vhile. You two can vax philosophy together or play chess, or do vhatever it is people with degrees do to pass zhe time. You take up zhe most room in zhe kitchen, anyvay.”

“Yeah, and then I can come and getcha or whatever when more of us are cleared out and you got room to cook your bear or somethin’,” Scout grins.

“We’re gonna have to take a trip into town,” Sniper puts in. “I can drive a couple fellas with me. First we should probably put together a menu.”

Spy nods, glad this is all coming together. “I agree. It would be bad form to serve dishes that were too similar or could make ‘im sick when served together. And I will need to know what sort of wine to serve.”

Working together with a napkin and a pen, the group puts together quite the eclectic menu. Sniper decides to make kebabs on the portable grill/stove top he has in his van, which he can plug into the wall in the kitchen and pick a corner to work in. Spy needs the oven to roast his lamb and potatoes, which leaves Scout one of the burners on the stovetop to cook a burger. Soldier will have another burner to perfect his grilled cheese, and Demo and Pyro will sit back to wait their turn while Medic paces and oversees everything. Later, Heavy will have his chance to make beef stroganoff, a dish his mother used to make for his family when he was young, but with bear instead.

The shopping list winds up rounding out to beets, bananas, peppers, red wine (Merlot, if you please) potatoes, chocolate ice cream, marichino cherries, tomato paste, sliced cheese (American!) a side of beef, egg noodles, honey, cloves, cinnamon, ginger, blackberry jam, nutmeg, fresh mint, vegetable oil, and more.

Sniper takes Spy, Demo and Medic with him on the trip, leaving the others to their stations and assignments.

They take twice as long in the store as they should. Spy can’t find exactly what he wants and ends up spending half an hour looking for suitable replacements. The check out line takes them almost a full second hour as they try to sort out who needs what so they all only pay their fair share before they come to the agreement to simply pool their money and pay for one purchase instead of four.

By the time they get back the others are already busy preparing all they can in the cramped kitchen, with the exception of Engineer and Heavy who are both too deeply absorbed in their game of chess in his basement to notice the absence of the rest of their team.

Spy sets up his rack of lamb in the oven, resting directly on the grate so the lamb’s juices drip down into the pan of scalloped potatoes directly under it, and then helps Sniper chop up his alligator and skewer them on kebabs. Pyro assists Demo with mashing up a bunch of meat into oatmeal, and stuffing it into a sack to be boiled.

Scout has to get Medic’s help to fry a burger in such a way that it won’t food poison the Engineer, and Spy has to consistently tell Soldier exactly how to grill a cheese sandwich, but he burns it every single time. Eventually he’s sent to stir the tomato soup so the bottom doesn’t burn, leaving Spy with the humble task of grilled cheese.

Ordinarily, the team disappears to all corners of the base to pretend the others don’t exist for a few hours. They’ve never voluntarily spend their days off with one another. But as the hours wear on with failed and re-tried attempts at dishes most of them have never cooked before, they have to admit that it’s actually… fun.

Scout and Sniper at some point start kissing on the counter, which only prompts Pyro and Demo to join in the snuggle pile until Spy and Medic break it up with cross words and smiles.

It’s strange really, the kitchen filled with people who all share a common affection for one man. Everyone in the room shares feelings for a single extraordinary person. Their love for Engineer varies from merc to merc, from happy crushes to reluctant respect to head-over-heels adoration. But all of them have a universal interest. It feels like all of them are in one giant relationship with one another, with the Engineer at the epicenter, the glue in the middle of their group.

When most of their meals are well on their way, Sniper, Scout and Demo take off to relieve Heavy of his distraction duties so he can come make his gift for the man who brought them together. The sudden absence of almost half their group leaves them all with a sense of loss that’s easily overcome by the Russian’s calm presence, filling up the empty vacuum left by the others.

Heavy recruits Spy’s help to put together his meal, while Pyro helps Medic dollop together potato dumplings. The whole remaining entourage then works together to decorate a heap of cinnamon churros with colored frosting, nuts, sprinkles and other toppings.

They’re all covered in frosting by the end of it, grinning and making jokes. Soldier licks frosting off Spy’s fingers and Heavy wipes sprinkles off Pyro’s lenses, Medic shakes flour out of Soldier’s hair and Spy brushes nuts off Heavy’s shoulders. It feels like they’re family, but in kind of a big, gay way.

Demo, Sniper and Scout eventually return, all looking a little rumpled and very satisfied. Scout’s visibly limping, but he looks happiest out of all of them.

It’s almost dinner time, but they’re finally, finally done. Everyone moves to gather their meals and bring them down to Engie’s room when Spy rushes ahead to block the door.

"No. This will not do. We can not simply invade his room like a bunch of savages. No offense to those amongst you ‘o are, actually, savages," he says. "Engineer is worthy of better. We must arrange this meal and bring ‘im too it, like ‘e deserves."

The others roll their eyes. Spy is the only one who seems to think this is necessary, but he does have a point. They all work together under Spy’s watchful eye to set up the meals under hot platters to keep them warm, they even tug down a set of ugly curtains to make a table cloth, and Pyro brings slow-burning flares that will act as candles. The lounge is set up as nicely as a military lounge can be, and they elect Medic to fetch Engineer under the guise of an experiment he needs help with.

The tension and excitement in the kitchen while they wait for their Engineer is tangible. Scout and Spy share excited smiles, Pyro and Demo shake one another by the arms with glee, Heavy and Sniper cuddle up side by side to share the quiet thrum of their anticipation. Soldier is the hardest to keep quiet, but with the help of everyone else’s silence, he manages to keep his tongue bit.

When Medic and the Engineer draw nearer, the group starts to hear their conversation.

“- in the lounge why, exactly?”

“Vell, because zhat’s vhere I set up my experiment of course. It’s not medical or I wouldn’t have asked for your help, so I didn’t need to set it up in zhe lab.”

The door swings open and Engineer steps inside. He stops in his tracks at the sight of the table set up and the mercenaries all crowded around inside. Medic steps inside behind him and closes and locks the door.

The dimly lit scene before him is like something out of one of Engineer’s dreams. All his friends-slash-lovers are gathered together, waiting for him, behind a table laden with enough food to feed the lot of them. It’s like they’ve all gotten together to have a romantic team date.

He steps closer so he can see what’s on the table. The whole table is a mystery, dishes hidden under hot plates, and he hopes his team plans on filling him in on before they start their meal.

Except, there’s only one chair on the table, he realizes. One chair set in front of him, on the opposite side of the table from the rest of the mercs.

That’s when it all clicks into place.

"This ain’t all for me is it?" he asks, his voice tight with emotion. He’s never felt so loved in his life.

“It is, cher,” Spy comes up behind him on the other side and puts his hands on the Texan’s shoulders.

“Surprise!” Soldier shouts.

“You fed all of us, made us feel good,” Heavy claps Engie on the back.

“We thought we’d return the favor,” Sniper pulls the Engineer’s chair back.

“It’s our turn tae make you feel good,” Demo leans against the table with a smile.

“You’ve been so important to all of us,” Medic stands by the Engineer’s other side.

“We all chipped in!” Scout says excitedly. “All of us made somethin’ special.”

“We love you,” Pyro says, muffled, and takes Engie’s hand.

Engineer gives her hand a squeeze, tears welling up in his eyes. He had no idea the others cared for him this much. He knew they appreciated what he did, and sure he’d come to be friends with most of them, with benefits with a few, but it hadn’t occurred to him that they cared so much. That these men, who when they weren’t sleeping with each other could hardly stand each other, could come together and do this for him is beyond his wildest dreams.

"I don’ know what to say," he laughs, a little choked up. "Ya’ll didn’t have to go to so much trouble for me, I mean just that you let me be so intimate with you is thanks enough." He has to sit down. His knees are wobbling from the surprise and sudden rush of emotions and he has to sink down into the offered chair at the table.

"It all smells fantastic, by the way I’m sure you all did amazing." he adds with a smile. "Someone wanna clue me in on the menu or is it a surprise?"

“It’s a surprise,” Sniper says.

“You’ll find out what the dishes are as they are presented to you,” Spy clarifies, helping the man scoot his chair in to the table.

Sniper slides the closest hot platter towards Engie. “We decided to go in the order you did us. You woulda loved bein’ here while we tried to figure out who’s on first an’ what’s on second,” he grins.

"Y’all coulda asked me." Engineer laughs, moving his hands out of the way of the plate as it comes to rest in front of him. "I don’ have many secrets left with all a ya’ll.”

“It was an adventure tryin’ to figure it out without yae,” Demo leans against a corner of the table with a wide smile.

“Let’s not waste any more time talking,” Medic suggests, clearly just as eager as the rest to bestow their gifts upon the Engineer. “I’m sure zhe poor man is starving.”

Sniper chuckles and lifts the lid of his hot plate to present the Engineer with his first course.

Engie’s eyes go wide when he sees a pile of steaming kebabs at least a foot high. Some identifiable white meat has been skewered onto sticks along with bananas, beets and sweet peppers, drizzled in a sauce that smells sweet and sour.

He lets out a low whistle. “Wow Sniper, these look amazing.” he says, picking up the first one. It smells delicious and they look perfectly grilled, not too rare but not overcooked so the vegetables have lost all their crunch. “But um…would you mind tellin’ me what that is?” he asks, pointing at the strange meat.

“Crocodile,” Sniper says with a smile. Engie doesn’t hide his flutter of astonishment very well, and the Aussie laughs. “Don’t worry, it’s plenty edible. It woulda gone bad in me camper if I didn’t get rid of it quick.”

“Where exactly did you get a crocodile in the middle of the desert?” Spy asks over the Engineer’s shoulder. Sniper only shrugs.

"That is probably bad question to ask. Especially when Engineer is trying to decide if he is going to eat it," Heavy says.

"I’m goin’ to eat it!" Engineer almost shouts, turning a little to reassure Sniper that he doesn’t doubt him. "I was just curious about what it is. I bet it’s delicious." With that said he lifts the first kebab and digs in.

He definitely wasn’t wrong. The meat is seared beautifully, the juices gush over his tongue as soon as he bites down. It’s a little chewy, but not because it’s over or underdone, he supposes it’s just the texture of the meat. He’s not sure what he thought overgrown lizard would taste like, but he’s not disappointed. The juices from the meat soaked into the other ingredients, giving the bananas a slightly salty, sour flavor, and the peppers and beets give a punch of acidity to the whole kebab that keeps it from tasting too heavy.

Sniper provides him with a cold beer to go with the kebabs and takes a spot behind him to rub his shoulders. It feels so nice to get to feed the Engineer, after he’s been feeding the Sniper for so many weeks. His current paunch is thanks to Engie, and Engie is the one that makes him feel beautiful with it. He’s the man at the center of Sniper’s world. The chance to return his love makes him giddy with affection.

Engineer mutters a few words of thanks after finishing the first kebab, while reaching for the second. As much as he likes praise he’s also a firm believer that the best compliment you can give a chef is to keep eating. He can give Sniper all the praise he wants when he’s cleared his plate.

Which is exactly what he intends to do. It’s not much of a hardship of course, finishing off a plate of delicious meat and vegetables, grilled especially for him by his lover. He’s not going to rush but he has no doubt it won’t be long before the plate in front of him is clean as a whistle.

However, there is an awful lot of it. There’s probably a pound of meat alone, not including the veggies and bananas. He clears ten sticks, fifteen, and he doesn’t seem to have made a dent. Luckily the kebabs aren’t totally packed, with only six or seven morsels on each skewer, but it’s still a huge portion.

But he couldn’t possibly stop, even to move on to the next dish. Not with how eager and expectant Sniper is. He keeps stooping to kiss Engie’s neck and shoulders, rubbing down his sides and upper arms, in a constant state of motion and desire. He whispers things in Engie’s ear that have his cheeks turning pink.

He stops now and then to take long drinks from the cold beer Sniper had given him. The cold feels good on his throat and in his belly and the small breaks allow him enough time to catch his breathe and dig in again.

Every bite is as good as the last, each kebab completely perfect. Sniper was careful to cook each one just right, never getting sloppy or lazy and letting the quality run down. They’re absolutely amazing and by the time Engineer is half way done with the plate he’s determined to get the recipe no matter what Sniper might ask for in return. Though he’s not quite sure where he’ll find himself a crocodile.

The others are watching with rapt attention, licking their lips and whispering to one another in speculation of what the Engineer will think of their dishes, what he’ll look like by the end of it.

Sniper can hardly contain himself. With every kebab that disappears, his anticipation grows. He knew his dish wouldn’t even come close to filling him up, but he’s laying the groundwork for the meals to come. They’re building a scaffolding to hold up the belly he’ll be sporting by dessert, and his whole body is buzzing with anxious energy.

“You’re gonna look delicious, you know that?” Sniper leans down and growls right behind Engie’s ear, his breath hot fanning down his neck. “You’re gonna look like a ripe peach, good enough to eat. We ain’t gonna be able to keep our hands off you.”

Engineer groans around the mouthful of juicy crocodile and salty, grilled vegetables. He can just imagine how he’s going to look, belly perfectly round, held up by his knees. His lovers rubbing and kissing, sucking and biting wherever they can reach.

He’s half hard just imagining it.

He’s never really been on this end before. Sure, he’s overeaten during holidays, who hasn’t? There was one Christmas he decided to purposefully overeat, and then dismissed himself to the bathroom to explore his new anatomy, but he always preferred to see others full over himself.

Cooking for others is a way for him to share his love. But today, the others are sharing their love back, and it’s overwhelming. If it weren’t for Sniper’s heated words breathing down his neck he would probably be tearing up from the intensity of the affection he feels in the room.

Sniper transitions from sentences into breathy growls, kissing Engie’s neck and biting his ear until he watches him turn red.

“Don’t rile him up too much,” Demo teases with a smile. “We’ve all gotta get our hands on him.”

"Not everyone." Engineer says, taking a small break. There’s only three kebabs left now so he decides it’s alright to take a moment to collect himself before finishing them. "I mean, I wouldn’t mind everyone of ya takin’ a chance at me but I know for a fact that for some of you that just isn’t your style."

Pyro wiggles at the other end of the table, overcome with a sudden fit of emotion. Being recognized like that makes her feel important amongst all of the oversexed men. He didn’t have to say anything, but he did, and it makes her want to crawl across the table and sit in his lap.

They’d spoken in private over the days about how she doesn’t want him to stop sleeping with the other mercenaries, since they’re willing to provide that and she just plain isn’t. It’s important to her that his needs are met, under the condition that he always comes back to cuddle her to sleep. He agreed to that arrangement in a nanosecond, and has held fast to it since.

She doesn’t expect to see a nod of understanding from the Soldier. She was probably the only one who noticed, or at least, she was the only one who knew what it meant. She doubts many of the men in the room have a concept of willingly, happily and knowingly not having sex.

Engineer offers her a brief smile and shares a knowing look with Soldier (he thinks, it’s hard to tell when he can’t really see the man’s eyes) before turning back to his almost empty plate. To one side there’s a pile of picked clean kebab skewers. To the other, the last portions of the first round of the meal.

He goes especially slow with these last few skewers, taking his time between bites to really savor the flavors. Sniper clearly put a lot of time and effort into this and he isn’t going to let that go unnoticed.

When the final bite is gone, Engie takes the time to finish the beer, and the plate is cleared away. Sniper reluctantly steps aside to make room for Spy, who slides forward the next platter. He lifts the hot plate lid and the Engineer is awash in a cloud of steam that smells like lamb. He’s not surprised to find that the dish has lamb in it. He _is_ surprised at the _amount_ of lamb.

There has to be an entire leg of lamb laid out in immaculate slices, brown around the edges and juicy pink in the center. The slices are in a line over what has to be at least half a pound of scalloped potatoes, drenched in the lamb’s juices and rubbed with spices. Spy produces a wine glass from god knows where an uncorks a bottle of red wine, pouring Engineer a generous amount.

“Gigot d’agneau pleureur,” Spy says with a flourish of his hand. “I am intimately familiar with ‘ow fond you are of large portions.”

Engineer grimaces. That sounds a little more bitter than he’s sure Spy intended. They all did this out of kindness, not some sort of revenge for feeding them, right?

Spy is the only one who ever seemed to have a problem with what they did, after all. Soldier was embarrassed for a while but Spy had seemed angry for quite a while. Was this how he planned on getting revenge?

Well if it is, Engineer is more than up to the challenge. He grabs a fork and a knife and pulls the plate a little closer.

"This smells delicious Spy," he says, looking up at the other man with his biggest, warmest smile. "I can’t wait to eat every last bite."

It takes all of Spy’s training not to roll his eyes. He launches into a detailed description of exactly how he prepared the meat, what spices he used, how long he cooked it, how he prepared the potatoes, and so on. Engineer only hears half of it, the rest of his senses are roaring louder than Spy can croon.

He doesn’t want to say it’s better than Sniper’s dish. Especially since he knows Sniper’s was prepared with love and Spy’s definitely wasn’t. But it’s packed with more flavors than a poor southern boy knows what to do with. The meat explodes with taste on his tongue, juicy and tender, soft as butter and light as chicken for such a decadent meat. The potatoes are salty and sweet and dissolve on his tongue like spun sugar.

Sniper is squirming off to the side as he watches Engie eat. He imagines what he’ll look like when he finishes, wonders if he’ll be any bigger, wishes he could feel. Demo clearly sees his struggle, because he beckons the Aussie over to him. Several eyes track his movements, and then widen when Demo seizes Sniper by the hips and lifts him right up to sit on the table. He steps between his legs and dives in for a kiss that has all of Engineer’s blood rushing south.

He swallows the mouthful of tender, juicy, perfectly seasoned meat, forcing it past the growing lump in his throat.

"How do you boys expect me to eat when you keep making my mouth run dry?" he teases, watching them devour each other less than a few feet away.

“Dinner and a show,” Sniper growls when Demo kisses his way down the smaller man’s neck.

“Ye got wine,” Demo supplies with a Cheshire smile.

He licks back into Sniper’s mouth with a groan, echoed by Sniper’s moan when their hips slide together on the table. His legs wrap around Demo’s waist and his arms wrap around his shoulder and he pulls him in closer, tighter. His paunch presses against Demo’s abs and their chests rub together, the sight makes Engie’s heart skip a beat.

"I thought this meal was about me. But you two have fun, I don’t feel neglected at all," Engineer teases, as he sinks his fork and knife into the succulent cut of meat once again.

It’s a heavy meal, especially in comparison to the kebabs which, with only a little meat compared to the amount of veggies, was a lot but it hadn’t been a challenge to finish them off and keep going.

This leg of lamb is different though. Heavy might have been able to eat the whole thing and not feel it but there’s no way Engie is going to be able to pull that off.

“It _is_ about you, love,” Sniper sighs, tipping his head back to look at Engie while Demo sucks a mark into his neck.

“We’re just spreadin’ a little love your way,” Demo smiles over Sniper’s shoulder, running his hands down the Aussie’s back to grab his ass in full view of the seated Engineer.

"You two just can’t keep your hands off each other, admit it." Engineer laughs after swallowing another mouthful of the delicious meal. "I should ask ya’ll to pay me some kinda matchmakers fee for bringin’ ya together."

“Talk to Demo ‘bout that one,” Sniper chuckles throatily. “I already paid my dues by lettin’ the two of yeh spitroast me.”

“You two are being vulgar, ‘onestly,” Spy suddenly takes up his spot behind Engie again. “Engineer is trying to enjoy his meal in peace and you’re getting your pheromones all over the place. Please control yourself gentlemen.”

“Feelin’ lonely, spy?” Sniper licks his lips at the Frenchman. “You want to get in on this, spook?”

Spy sneers and takes a step back, away from the amorous pair. “I think not. I am not interested in performing for the rest of these voyeurs. And I am still waiting to ‘ear what Engineer thinks of his meal.”

"Sorry Spy." Engineer says sheepishly. "Shoulda spoken up. Gotta say, you might have been a little right about your fancy French cooking. This is delicious."

Spy puffs up a little and rubs Engie’s shoulders like Sniper had been doing. He leans down with a little smile and kisses the Texan’s cheek. “I’m glad you like it,” he says. “I hope it… fills you up.”

He reaches down to pat Engie’s stomach, officially taking the first feel of the evening. There’s nothing to feel yet of course, but he’s glad he got to christen the event with the very first belly touch.

Engineer grins. “Well I doubt it’s goin’ to finish the job. But it’ll certainly get things movin’ along. Now you can keep up all the shoulder rubbin’ you want, but no more kisses. I wanna focus on this delicious piece of meat you so _lovin’ly_ made for me.”

Spy’s smile turns a little forced, but he stands back up anyway. “Of course, mon ami joufflu,” he slides his hands down Engie’s shoulders to his sides and gives his love handles a little squeeze through his overalls.

Engineer doesn’t have a particularly hard time eating. He knows this is only second of many to come. While normally he eats until he isn’t hungry anymore and stops, he reminds himself to keep eating even when he feels full. 

The leg of lamb looks a lot bigger than it is, thankfully. Still, when combined with the stack of potatoes he must have used there’s plenty to fill up the Texan to the point where he might have stopped if he didn’t have a goal in mind.

When he swallows down the last potato, he’s definitely feeling full. Two hearty meals in a row is more than enough to pleasantly fill him up. He gives Spy his compliments again and sits back to remove his belt. If he’s going to do this, he might as well be comfortable.

“Aw hell yeah, my turn!” Scout beams and jumps up from where he’d been lounging against the wall. “I did that french fry recipe I gave you, dunno if you ever actually tried it but man it’s friggin’ good.”

He grabs his platter and pushes it in front of Engie so quickly Spy almost doesn’t have time to pulls his away. He yanks off the lid to produce a big stack of french fries beside a big burger, thick patty warm and drizzling down crispy lettuce and tomato, melted cheese and sliced pickles. Beside it is a tall glass with a chocolate milkshake, topped with whipped cream and a cherry.

“Made most of it myself, too,” Scout says proudly. “Spy helped. Didn’t wanna burn the meat.”

"He does know an awful lot about meat. That lamb was perfect." Engineer says, looking over the plate of food. It’s been a long time since he’s eaten past this point intentionally. He’s always been more of a feeder than an eater.

Still, he’s going to make it work. He has to. He can’t let his team down, after all they’ve done for him.

"It looks mighty fine Scout. You won’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve had the chance to sink my teeth into a good ol’ fashioned American burger."

Scout’s grin, impossibly, widens. His eyes crinkle up and he bounds behind Engie to bounce up and down. “It’s gonna be great I swear, those french fries are the best – didja read the recipe? They’re like french toast fries!”

“Yes, I made them,” Engie chuckles. “The egg batter is ingenious.”

He didn’t actually get the chance to eat them when he made them for Heavy. Trying them now, it’s like heaven. They’re crispy and oily on the outside, with a slight sweet flavor from the egg, and soft on the inside. Drizzled lightly with tangy ketchup, they’re absolutely heavenly. He hasn’t even tried the burger yet and he’s groaning in pleasure.

Scout is almost vibrating with excitement. “You like ‘em!” he cries, his voice cracking slightly in glee. “Best fries you ever had I bet!”

Engineer can’t resist teasing the kid a little. He makes it too easy.

"Well, they’re pretty good," he says dismissively. "I mean, for a northerner’s fries they’re probably the best you got, but compared to some of the fries back home…"

“Aw, come on,” Scout whines, and stops bouncing. “Best fries you ever had _here_ at least?”

"Sure of course. But anything is better than the mess hall slop." Engineer can’t help but laugh. "I’m just pullin’ your leg kid, they’re delicious. Best I ever had, and that’s a fact. I could have ‘em with every meal from now on."

Scout’s grin comes back and he bounces his weight from foot to foot. “You’re a jerk,” he says, swatting Engie’s upper arm. He rubs his hands up and down Engie’s arms and kisses the top of his bald head, alive with energy.

He’s so excited he can hardly stand it. He imagines how this giant meal will add pounds to Engie’s body, and wriggles in joy. The Texan’s backside will have an even more plush layer of fat over it for him to squeeze while he sucking down the man’s cock. He whines and bites his lip thinking about it, his hands subconsciously gripping Engie’s soft sides.

"Easy kid those ain’t the good kind of bruises you’re leavin’," Engineer says, taking Scout’s hands and easing them off his body. He knows the boy is excited; he is too, and he doesn’t fault him for getting swept up in his emotions but the squeezing when they aren’t in bed is a little uncomfortable.

He eats a few more fries, clearing a path to the giant burger waiting for him in the center of the plate. It looks delicious, juicy meat and condiments sandwiched between what he’s sure are fresh, rather than sold by the bag, buns.

As he bites in, the notion is confirmed. The buns are crispy and fluffy, a perfect counterpoint to the decadent, juicy meat and crisp pickles, tomatoes and lettuce. He has to quickly catch dribbles of liquid that trickle down his chin from the hearty patty with his napkin, and Scout quickly dives in to lick up a spot that he missed from the corner of his mouth. He grins when Engie grunts a little at the sudden stimulation, and almost chokes on his burger.

“Real good?” Scout asks before the Texan is even finished chewing so he can’t answer. “God, I bet it feels good goin’ down. I know how much it drives me nuts when it gets to that point where I start to really get full, ya know? You gotta be feelin’ that at this point, right? Start feelin’ yourself grow? Fuck, that’s the best part ain’t it? Like toein’ the line, gettin’ the first taste of victory. Ah, fuck you’re gonna look so good.”

"Hurry up and answer before he explodes." Heavy says, watching Scout bouncing on his heels like an over excited puppy.

Engineer grins around his mouthful of burger before swallowing it down. Scout’s right, it does feel pretty good going down. He’s definitely full now and every bite is a little challenging as he presses past the instinct telling him that this is _enough_. That he’s full and from here on it’s going to get a little painful as he stretches those unused muscles. And he loves it because Scout is right, it does feel like a victory.

Scout watches in a constant state of motion. Rubbing Engie’s back, swinging his feet on the edge of the table, bouncing around behind him, he’s exhausting to watch.

He’s overjoyed as he watches Engie eat. He never wondered what he looked like before while eating, but now he does. He bets it don’t look as good as this. Engineer looks satisfied and happy, chewing contentedly and humming with every swallow. When he has to pause to release his overall straps, Scout nearly faints.

“Oh man, oh shit yeah,” he whines, gripping the back of Engie’s seat and squirming where he stands. “Are you guys seein’ this, fuck.”

Medic, Spy and Heavy seem to have a cool attitude about it, but Demo and Sniper are almost drooling right along with Scout. Soldier and Pyro are, as usual, bastions of mystery.

“We see him laddie,” Demo agrees with a dry mouth, nodding. “He looks good enough tae eat.”

“Fuck yeah he does,” Scout kisses the Engineer’s neck and listens to him gulp in surprise when he slides his hands under the pudge at the bottom of his belly to give it a squeeze.

Engineer feels his face growing warm and knows he must be blushing redder than the ketchup on his burger. He loves when Scout, or any of his lovers, manhandle him like this. If Scout keeps it up he’s going to be hard as a rock in seconds and there’s no way to hide it with the kid touching him like this.

Scout grins against Engie’s neck and sucks a mark behind his ear. He gropes his belly with long fingers and flat palms, massaging him with intent. He slips his hands down the Engineer’s thighs and takes an intentional route back up that cups the Texan’s package for a brief moment.

“Don’t quit eatin’ come on, you gotta finish it. Think you’re gonna be showin’ by the time you’re done?” he asks and rubs a hand over the top of Engie’s belly, hoping to feel for whatever hardness might be forming.

"Hard to keep eatin’ when you keep takin’ my breath away darlin’," Engineer groans. He forces himself to pull his focus away from how good Scout’s hands feel on him and turn it back to the burger and fries in front of him.

He doesn’t think he’ll be showing much by the time he’s done with Scout’s meal. It’s not that there isn’t a lot there but that he’s simply too big with too much fat on his belly to start showing so soon. He won’t say anything and disappoint the kid though. Not when he’s so excited.

But it is a big meal so maybe he’ll be proven wrong. It won’t be the first time his eyes are bigger than his stomach, so to speak.

Scout continues to fondle Engie’s belly, thighs and chest while he eats, spurring him on with whispered words of encouragement.  Sniper and Demoman are practically drooling watching him.

“You’re gonnae drive him mad, laddie,” Demo chuckles breathily.

“He’s drivin’ ME crazy, are you kiddin?” Scout whines against Engie’s temple.

“I’ll distract you,” Sniper says and disentangles himself from Demo. Engineer watches with a dry mouth as the Aussie grabs Scout by the ass and lifts him up onto the table. Scout instantly wraps his legs around Sniper’s waist and pulls him into a tonsil-deep kiss with an open-mouthed moan.

Not to be left out, Demo joins the pair, coming up behind Sniper to kiss his neck and paw at the front of his pants while the Aussie aggressively kisses the young Scout. It takes Engineer a minute to notice that what he thought was simply pawing is actually Demo unbuttoning Sniper’s pants so he can slip his hand into the front of the man’s jeans.

If Engie could possibly get harder, he does. His lovers are stunning in their passion and the sight of them combined with the delicious food and the not-quite-painful sensation of being a little overfull does nothing to dampen his libido.

Spy rolls his eyes. “You’re leaving our poor Engineer starved for affection,” he croons, and comes up behind the Texan to resume the petting Scout had abandoned. He slips his hands down under Engie’s unfastened overalls and traces the edge of his belly that hangs lower than his tee shirt can reach. He slips the edge of fabric up and curls his fingers into the fat and hair at the bottom of his belly, dipping a fingertip into his navel simultaneously to his tongue dipping in Engie’s ear.

Engineer can’t help but moan, almost choking on the half chewed bite of burger in his mouth. This is cruel, what they’re doing to him. He needs more stimulation, more touching, especially where he’s most desperate for friction. These gentle brushes and teasing squeezes are going to drive him mad before he’s even half way done with the meal they’ve prepared for him.

He forces himself to swallow, the still too large, unchewed bites, going down hard and forcing him to really work before he can breathe again. He soothes his throat with a long drink of the thick, creamy milkshake Scout made for him and it helps to sooth the ache while the sudden cold helps drag him out of his aroused haze.

Spy’s hand travels lower between Engie’s thighs mercifully, cupping him through his jeans and pulsing a few firm squeezes to stimulate blood flow.

“Don’t stop eating, cher,” he whispers in the Texan’s ear when he paused his meal in order to grind his hips forward. “You ‘ave so much more to go. If you take too long, you may never get to finish. Your lovers are impatient.”

As if to prove Spy’s whispered point, Scout whines loudly from his spot on the table beside Engie. Sniper’s grinding against him now in slow, firm rolls of his hips, biting down on his shoulder. Demo is raking his nails down Sniper’s back to his hips, kissing at his throat with wet lips.

“Only a few more bites of your burger,” Spy snaps Engie’s attention back to his meal. “Swallow it down.”

"Yeah, yeah of course." Engineer says. He takes a too big bite of the burger, effectively cutting what’s left of it in half. It’s as delicious as before but there’s a sense of urgency to finishing it now. He needs to get it done, needs to finish every bite so he can get to the next plate and the next and the next, until he’s satisfied his lovers enough that they’ll return the favor.

He barely chews the last of his burger. It hurts going down, setting his nerves alight. He scarfs the delicious fries and nearly chugs the shake. The speed of it gives him a stomach ache, but he needs to get it all down, he needs some kind of relief. He hopes that if he finishes the dish, he’ll get some kind of reward.

His reward comes in the form of Scout rolling away from Sniper, who’s perfectly happy to roll over and go right back to kissing Demoman. Scout slides directly into Engie’s lap on the chair and grinds against his soft lower belly and pulls him into a chocolate-flavored ice cold kiss.

Engineer groans, half in pain, half in pleasure. He grabs onto Scout like a drowning man grabbing hold of a life line, pulling him as close as he possible can and knowing that it can’t possibly be close enough until he can sink inside the boy’s soft, yielding body and find his bliss there. Whatever reservations he may have had about having sex with Scout in the past seem gone now, he’s not sure why he ever denied himself the lithe form pressed up against his full belly from chest to thighs.

Scout pants as Engie’s strong arms wrap all the way around his waist and drag him down into rough kisses. The runner explores Engie’s cool mouth with his searing hot tongue and groans down his throat. He wraps his arms around the Texan’s neck and tilts his head to the side so he can lick behind Engie’s teeth.

“I can feel it,” he groans and rolls his body forward against Engineer’s. “I can feel you’re gettin’ tight.”

Engineer tips his head back with a low, husky groan. The sound is pure sex, tinged with the slightest bit of pain. “Keep doin’ that kid, just like that and don’t you dare stop. You stop and I’ll throw you down on this table and turn you into the next course of my meal.”

“Oh my god,” Scout whimpers and bites his lip. He rocks his body against Engie’s again, and then jams his hands down between them to unfasten his pants and shove the Texan’s overalls down so he can yank his shirt up and press his blazing hot cock against the soft pudge of his belly. He lays his head down on the Engineer’s chest and grabs the sides of his belly with both hands, and pushes in. The soft, yielding fat folds over his dick and he fucks into the channel of hot, fuzzy flesh, panting and moaning loudly in the Engineer’s ear.

There’s nothing Engineer can do but hold on and let Scout ride him to his orgasm. Every time he rocks forward he presses not just against the Texan’s overfed, if not yet rounded out, belly but also against his achingly hard cock. It’s a slow, cruel torture but he wouldn’t stop him for anything. He needs Scout to keep going, he needs to feel him jerk and shudder against him as his orgasm washes over him, he wants to feel his release splatter his stomach and chest like a badge of honor. He needs it more than he needs air right now.

“Excuse me, but it is my turn!” Soldier barks, reminding everyone of his uncharacteristically silent presence in the room.

“Hold your horses,” Scout pants, and captures Engie’s lips in another deep kiss. The passage of flesh gets slicker with every few thrusts, wet by Scout’s dribbling cock. He sucks on the Texan’s tongue and whines into his open mouth when his pelvic floor flutters and sends a hot ache down his thighs. “Oh fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he whimpers and bites down on his own lip, resting his forehead against the Engineer’s.

"Do it," Engineer orders, panting, his grip on Scout hard enough to bruise. "Do it kid. I wanna feel it. Then you can get down on your knees and clean it up if you like while I keep eating."

“Fuck!” that does Scout in. He comes shouting, striping Engie’s chest with his come, digging chewed nails into his belly as he fucks his gut. He whimpers through his climax, the tip of  his tongue visible through his teeth.

“Christ kid,” Sniper growls low from beside the pair. “You still got the gayest o-face I ever seen.”

“Sh – shut up,” Scout whines, releasing his death grip on Engie’s belly and sagging backwards against the edge of the table.

"Leave him alone Sniper." Engineer says. He let’s go of Scout with one hand, the other still holding him up, to caress the boy’s soft cheek. He’s as soft as a child and once again Engineer is struck by how young he is. But right now he doesn’t really care. "I think you’re beautiful darlin’. One of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen." he assures the younger man before leaning forward to give him another quick kiss. "And anyone who says otherwise will answer to me."

Scout’s smile is lazy and happy, but his calm, post-climax bliss is interrupted by another loud announcement from Soldier.

“My turn!” he reminds the Scout. The runner rolls his eyes, but tucks himself away and slides backwards off Engie’s lap to kneel between his legs under the table. Soldier produces his platter and yanks the cover off. Underneath is a bowl of tomato soup beside a stack of four flawless grilled cheese sandwiches. “I made it myself. Without Spy’s help.”

Spy rolls his eyes.

Engineer gives him a soft smile. He knows it’s a lie, it couldn’t be more obvious, but he doesn’t say anything. Soldier looks so proud, he wouldn’t do anything to ruin that.

"Well thank you partner, they look amazin’. I can’t wait to dig into these," he says, the last word trembling as he feels Scout’s lips on his bare stomach.

“There is four kinds of cheeses. White cheddar, American, American with a tomato, and American with ham,” Soldier says, puffing his chest out.

“That’s two kinds,” Sniper says good-humoredly. Soldier blushes.

"But four kinds of cheese sandwiches. Which I’ve never had all at once." Engineer says, hoping to soothe Soldier’s rumpled feathers. He picks up the first sandwich, the white cheddar, and dips the corner in the creamy tomato soup.

He almost chokes on his first bite, however, when he feels Scout purposefully pull his jeans open. It releases some of the pressure on his lower belly, and that would have been nice, but the sudden deliberate and very wet kiss to his package is startling. He has to swallow before he really should’ve just to clear his throat so he doesn’t choke for air when Scout pulls his briefs down to get his mouth on him.

“You are fraternizing!” Soldier shouts under the table. Scout lifts his hand at him to display a rude finger, but doesn’t turn away from the task before him, fitting his lips around Engie’s cockhead.

"T-this is real good soldier," Engineer gasps, pressing his hips forward unintentionally to try to shove more of his cock into Scout’s mouth.

He can’t look down or say anything to Scout. If he acknowledges him not only is it rude to Soldier who tried so hard on these sandwiches but if he lets himself think about what’s going on under the table be won’t be able to stop himself from ignoring his food in preference of holding the boy by his hair and fucking his mouth so hard he can’t talk for days.

Soldier is pleased to hear the Engineer recognize him, and stands back up. He claps his hands behind him and stands at military rest at a respectful distance. He’s not coming any closer unless he’s invited.

“Grilled cheese is my favorite,” he says officially, keeping his shoulders squared off and his chin strong. “I’m sorry that I ate some of them. There would have been more but… I like them.”

Engineer laughs a little, though the sound comes out a little choked thanks to the things Scout is doing with his tongue. “That’s alright Soldier. I don’t mind sharing. But you can’t have any more, I want to try them all.”

“Affirmative,” Soldier salutes the Engineer.

Scout suddenly loosens his throat and dips his head down to the root, satisfied when he hears Engie shout and choke over the table. He feels powerful when he’s giving head, when he has a man’s most vulnerable anatomy at his mercy. He hollows his cheeks and flattens his tongue against the bottom, dragging up the underside on the upstroke. He gives a loud moan as he slides back down, sending vibrations into Engie’s full belly.

He grips the Texan’s thighs to help lever himself up and down at a distressingly slow pace, intentionally giving off lascivious noises with his lips and tongue, swallowing loudly around the flesh in his throat.

Through it all Engineer keeps eating. He finishes the first sandwich, the white cheddar, with ease and grabs on to the next one without taking a second to breathe between the two. The food is an anchor, it helps distract him from the pleasure to keep him from going off like a rocket too early. Each bite grounds him, keeping him focused on his ultimate goal.

Scout grunts in frustration. He won’t be outdone by grilled cheese. He raises a hand to fondle the Engineer’s balls with great care and intent, massaging them until he feels them hitch in his palm. He twists his neck, swiveling his mouth around his cock one way going up and the other way sliding down. He twists his hand around the shaft in the opposite direction and bobs quickly, intentionally drooling a little just to make it even easier to swallow.

He won’t be satisfied until he has Soldier spluttering in anger when he makes Engineer drop his sandwich.

It’s getting harder and harder to eat. It’s not that the sandwich isn’t delicious, even better than the last, he’s always been a sucker for good old American cheese, but the things Scout is doing to him should be illegal. How does the boy expect him to keep eating and growing like he’s supposed to while he’s intent on taking him apart?

Groaning around his mouthful of soup soaked warm bread and cheese Engineer starts rocking his hips in his chair, trying to fuck Scout’s mouth without making it too obvious what he’s doing to everyone else in the room. As though they didn’t _watch_ Scout sink under the table.

Soldier’s cheeks are turning a little red under the rim of his helmet. His lower lip trembles.

“Scout, you are being rude!” he accosts the younger man under the table.

Scout pulls back to lick at the head of Engie’s cock like an ice cream cone, and hums loudly. “You better ask Engie if he wants me to stop then,” he snarks before fitting his mouth back over his cock and swallowing down to the root.

"Solly, I promise… ah hell… I am goin’ to finish these sandwiches." Engineer says, groaning as Scout swallows around him. "But if Scout stops now I’m gonna die."

“I could do it!” Soldier says, startling the Engineer.

Scout pulls off with a loud snort. “You think you can get him off better than me?” he peeks out from under the table. “You ain’t never sucked a cock in your life!”

Soldier fidgets and turns even redder. “But you already got your turn,” he says, his shout trembling a little.

"Solly," Engineer says gently, sobering up a little at Soldier’s out of character offer. "Solly that’s real sweet of you. But you don’t gotta do that for me. I know you don’t want to."

“I do want to,” Soldier says, clenching his fists. “Everyone else makes you feel good except for me. Sex might not be… my favorite. But I want to make you feel good at least once!”

Engineer smiles and places a hand on Scout’s head to gently ease him off his cock. The other he offers out to Soldier to lead him close. “Solly you do make me feel good. You make me feel good by lettin’ me feed you, and now by feedin’ me. You don’t have to do anything else to make me feel good and happy. I promise. Don’t let Scout make you feel bad.”

“I want to,” Soldier repeats, quieter. His squared-off shoulders slump slightly, and he squeezes Engie’s hand.

He’s never been a fan of the whole sex thing. It’s messy and sometimes scary, he doesn’t like letting anyone into his vulnerable areas like that. It always feels like an assault, the very few times he’s tried in the past. He wasn’t even comfortable looking the person in the face after the panic-inducing encounters.

But… giving pleasure to someone _he_ cares about and trusts… that probably wouldn’t be so bad.

“Pff, if you think you can actually get him off then fine,” Scout scoffs and crawls out from under the table. “Lemme know when you give up.”

Engineer let’s Soldier climb under the table, taking Scout’s place between his legs. It’s clear Soldier doesn’t know what he’s doing when faced with Engineer’s cock but he isn’t willing to back down and admit to Scout that he’s never done this before.

Engineer smiles and cups Solly’s jaw, easing him forward towards his cock and gently feeding it past his lips.

"Now don’t take it too fast alright? You’ll choke," Engineer warns warmly. He likes seeing Solly like this. It’s rare to see the other man so unsure and vulnerable. It’s kind of sweet to watch.

Soldier tips his helmet back so he can look up at Engie’s face. It feels hot and heavy in his mouth, he can feel the Engineer’s rapid heart beat on his tongue. He smells like sweat and he can faintly taste the awful sugary Bonk! in Scout’s saliva.

He sits on his feet and takes the Texan’s slippery prick in one hand to keep it still so he can more confidently fit his mouth farther down over the shaft. He sucks evenly, like a child might suck on their thumb, and bobs his head uncertainly, slowly, waiting for some kind of cue from Engie.

Engineer offers a soft moan of encouragement. Soldier’s technique is rudimentary and sloppy, nothing compared to the sinful skill of Scout but he’s earnest in his efforts and knowing how badly he wants to make Engineer happy makes up for what he lacks in practice.

This is easily the most bizarre thing Soldier has ever experienced. It doesn’t seem like this part of the anatomy really belongs in the mouth. It doesn’t fit, and it’s awkward, he’s not sure whether he should fill his cheek with it or blow on it or what. But Engie seems to like it, and that’s good enough for him.

He tries to go deeper, but as soon as the head brushes the back of his throat, he gags and has to pull off to cough throatily.

“Told ya,” Scout snorts and gestures under the table.

“You stop that!” Soldier shouts over his shoulder. “At least I’m trying!”

"You’re doin’ beautifully Solly, don’t listen to him." Engineer says softly. "Just take it easy, it ain’t a race.” He turns to glare at Scout. "And you, be nice. He ain’t done this before, I bet you weren’t so great your first time neither. Now you stop tauntin’ him or so help me I will put you over my knee and spank you."

Scout grins and opens his mouth to give a snarky response, but a enormous hand suddenly comes clapping down over the young man’s mouth, and a second equally large hand bends him over the table with his arms pinned behind his back.

“Do not be rude,” Heavy rumbles. Scout gives a futile whine and wriggles in the iron grip, his cheeks turning pink.

“I ‘appen to know for a _fact_ that ‘is first blow was… less than satisfactory,” Spy gives a lecherous sneer and opens his mouth to tap his front teeth at the young man, who just grunts against Heavy’s palm and wiggles in his grip again.

Heavy frowns down at him. “Will let you go. If you will be good. If not, doktor and I will find better way to shut you up.” He tightens his grip for a moment to make his message clear before releasing the wriggling boy.

Scout grabs the table top to keep from sliding off backwards with a whimper. “Holy shit,” he croaks, voice hoarse.

Soldier is pleased at Scout’s complacency, and feels safe continuing. He opens his mouth again and this time, slides Engie’s cock to the back of his throat a little slower. He knows what to expect this time, so when the gag reflex is tickled, he swallows down hard to keep from retching again. The Engineer gives a shout and almost doubles over in his seat, which is a good sign! He’s got the Texan’s system on the defensive.

He widens his jaw and pulls back with a broad, flat stroke of his tongue up the underside, and then repeats the motion a little quicker, jabbing the back of his throat and swallowing audibly.

It’s still messy and lacks finesse but god is Soldier getting better at this. Adding his tongue to the mix takes away the feeling of being sucked on like a lollipop and the added stimulation feels amazing after being without it. Scout’s skill might have spoiled Engineer for blowjobs from anyone else, for the most part, but he’s not worried about Soldier getting him where he needs to go anymore.

He gets back to his meal, whereas Scout inches steadily closer to the Medic and his Heavy. He finally finishes his second sandwich and moves onto his third, soaking it in tomato soup so he doesn’t have to focus as much motor skill towards chewing. He moans around mouthfuls and presses a hand into his filling belly to ease the start of what will probably be pretty intense cramps.

Soldier catches the movement and reaches up with one hand to rub slow, even circles against the Engineer’s belly, using the other hand to hold Engie’s weighty cock steady while he bobs his mouth along the length of it.

"Hey Scout," Engineer says, head falling back with a groan. "Now that you’ve stopped talkin’ come make yourself useful. Soldier’s sort of got his hands and mouth full over here. Come help him out?" he asks, setting down his sandwich so he can rub his own belly, helping Soldier ease away the growing pain.

Scout casts a look over his shoulder at Heavy, almost as if asking permission. Heavy gives him an almost indiscernible nod, and Scout bounds over behind the Engineer.

“Hey Soldier sorry I was a dick,” he looks back up at Heavy, whose expression softens slightly. “You should try touchin’ his balls if ya can. He likes that.”

Soldier can barely see the Scout, but he takes his advice to heart. He’s a big enough man to know when to obey someone with greater expertise. He lowers his hand from Engie’s stomach just as the runner’s move to replace it, and cups the Texan’s balls instead.

Engie gasps, and Scout gives a little chuckle while kneading Engineer’s belly. “Yeah, see? Lick ‘em, too, it ain’t all about suckin’.”

Sniper carefully edges over and lifts the sandwich the overwrought Engineer put down, right as the Soldier starts to pump his cock in favor of pressing wet kisses to the soft, oft neglected fold of skin where his shaft meets his balls. Sniper dips the sandwich in the soup and lifts it to Engie’s mouth, humming in satisfaction as he watches the Texan’s lips seal around a bite and drip gooey cheese down his lip. He stoops instantly to suck it away in a kiss.

Engineer groans as he chews. Food always tastes better when it’s fed to you by hand, Demo had told him that. Now he understands what he means. It’s an intense feeling, being so pampered. With Solly on his knees in front of him, Scout rubbing his belly and Sniper feeding him there’s nothing for him to do but sit back and soak up their attentions.

This means he has nothing to focus on besides how good he feels. Scout’s hands are magic on his pained belly, easing away the cramps so there’s nothing left but the wonderful feeling of being fuller than he’s been in years. Solly’s got his aching erection under control, giving him all the attention he needs and the two conjoined pleasures are going right to his head, leaving him swimming in bliss.

Before he realizes it, he’s finished his third sandwich and halfway done with the last, with hardly a difference to how cramped he feels. At some point Demo joined the mix with whispered praises and neck kisses, even Spy came closer to watch the spectacle. Even if maybe he was only watching in order to take notes, wondering what it would be like if _he_ were at the center of all that attention.

“Zhis is fascinating to watch,” Medic declares, a little dry-mouthed. “I did not think one man could vithstand zhis level of intimacy vithout hemorrhaging.”

“Come, doktor,” Heavy sweeps Medic up to sit him on the other end of the table and pulls him into an overwhelming kiss, in full view of the Engineer.

He tastes the exquisitely melted cheese toying with his palette.

He smells the combined lust-musk of six men.

He feels Solly’s wet mouth sucking him in, Scout’s rough hands palming his gut, Demo’s soft lips caressing his throat.

He hears Soldier’s determined groans, Demo’s sweetly whispered nothings, Scout whimpering as he finds pleasure in the fat between his fingers.

And now he sees Heavy grinding between Medic’s legs, kissing him so deeply he’s got to be tickling the doctor’s lungs with his tongue.

If there was ever a definition for sensory overload, it’s this.

It’s more than Engineer can take. He swallows down the last bite of his sandwich, clearing his mouth so he can cry out his bliss as he comes. He doesn’t have time to warn the other man of his impending release and it ends up being more than the Soldier can swallow at once.

He pulls back, coughing, more of Engie’s come landing on his cheek and chin as he turns away to catch his breath. If Engineer’s eyes were open, the sight of Soldier looking so debauched would be something he’d be sure to remember for the rest of his life.

Flushed and panting, Solly sits back on his haunches to admire his handiwork. He watches the Engineer’s dick soften and twitch, dribbling come like a lazy faucet. The taste of it in his mouth isn’t horrible, it’s not entirely unlike runny snot, which he’s had plenty of experience with given his seasonal allergies, so he has no problem swallowing it. Not to mention, he understands it’s proper etiquette during these things to swallow.

“Shit. You actually got him off,” Scout gives a breathy laugh, feeling light headed after watching the Texan’s face while he came.

Engineer smiles lazily, floating on the high from his orgasm. “Course he did. He was amazin’. Come on up here Solly, get off your kneess and you can feed me the soup.”

“Sir yes sir!” Soldier says and crawls out from under the table. He sits on the surface right in front of the Engineer, pushing the plate out of the way and leaning forward on his knees so he can spoon the creamy tomato soup between the Texan’s lips.

Engie closes his eyes and hums happily, swirling the salty, tangy soup on his tongue. It’s the perfect temperature, with a sweet aftertaste, and a light flavor altogether when paired with the airy milk.

“It’s how my momma used to make it,” Soldier says quietly, talking only to the Engineer despite Sniper, Scout and Demo’s presence. “Whenever I got sick, she’d make it for me and tell me it would grow me up big and strong.”

A warm feeling spreads through Engineer that has nothing to do with the hot soup. Soldier never talks about his childhood. He never talks about anything personal, actually. So Engineer knows what it means for Solly to be comfortable enough with them, and with him specifically, to open up and share such a story.

"It’s delicious. My compliments to your ma. I hope it’ll help me grow big and strong too."

“Big, at least,” Soldier leans forward to pat Engie’s belly. “You’re already strong.”

He feeds him the rest of the soup in relative silence, only occasionally asking him if he wants a break or leaning forward to kiss away dribbles of the pale orange soup. When he finally swallows down the last bite, he looks down to inspect himself.

He’s definitely round now. His belly is framed by his shirt, ridden up to his pectorals, and his opened jeans beneath. He feels like he’s on display, with Scout’s hands occasionally slipping into view to grab his gut. There’s still a significant layer of pudge over top, but it’ll thin out.

Soldier turns to look at Medic, whose legs have wrapped around Heavy’s waist at the other end of the table. It’s impossible to see clearly from the angle the pair is at, but it appears as though Heavy is palming at the doctor through his pants.

Loudly, the mid-westerner clears his throat. “Medic!” he barks. “It is your turn.”

The German gives an irritated groan, and tips his head back to look at the group. He sighs and unwinds his ankles from behind Heavy’s bottom. “Ja, alright, I’m coming.” He bats away the Russian’s continued advances on his exposed throat and adjusts his trousers before coming up beside the bloated Engineer with his tray in hand.

He lifts the hot cover and the Engineer’s eyes widen. The dish is beautifully prepared, with thick cuts of medium-rare beef swimming in beef stock gravy, four baseball-sized potato dumplings on the side smothered with butter and green onions, and a stack of green beans on the other side.

“Sauerbraten,” the Medic flourishes with a wide grin as he imagines the state of the Texan by the time he finishes this hearty dish. “Comfort food. Und also,” he amends, and slides forward three bottles of beer, pristine in color, with German labeling. “To dull zhe ache.”

Engineer gives an appreciative groan, already reaching towards the bottles. The soup was good and went down easy but it left him dying for something cold to cool his overheated throat.

He opens one of the bottles and tips the contents into his mouth, taking a long drink before setting it down and turning his attention to the food. “Alright, that felt good. So where should I start?” he asks the German.

“Zhe dumplings are a palette cleanser for vhen zhe beef gets too heavy. If you aren’t feeling up to tackling zhe entrée just yet, you can start vith zhe beans,” Medic suggests, and smiles slyly at the Texan as he spears a few long, beef-soaked green beans onto the tines of Engie’s fork. “Do you vant me to feed you?”

"If you don’t mind," Engineer says, speaking as much to Heavy as he is to Medic. From his place at the end of the table the Russian nods his large head and Engineer smiles, relaxing a little.

Medic lifts the dripping beans, holding his hand underneath to catch the droplets of gravy as they fall. Engie’s belly is creaking with fullness, gurgling loudly to try and contain a four-course meal, but he ignores it in favor of the salty, slightly sour beans. Vinegar has been liberally applied to the whole dish, not a big surprise considering its origin, and the flavor is bright on the Texan’s tongue and in his sinuses.

He lifts his hand expectantly and the Engineer licks away the droplets that landed on his palm and fingers. The doctor gives him a whispered praise in German and strokes the back of his neck. The gesture has the Texan’s pelvic floor clenching in anxious pleasure. He knows what the Medic is capable of, after all.

Medic allows him to thoroughly clean his palm before collecting the next forkful of beans and lifting it to the Engineer’s waiting lips. They continue like this for a few more bites before Engineer holds up his hand, stopping the next forkful.

"I’d like to try some of the main course now, if that’s alright with you doc."

The meat is just as sour, but with a surprisingly sweet, almost nutty after-flavor. It starts out heavy and goes down heavy, but leaves a very light taste behind in his mouth. The transition is so remarkable and addictive, that he chews and swallows five slices out of fifteen, each roughly the size of three fingers held together. He groans at the fullness of his stomach. Even those times that he has indulged past full, he never got _this_ big.

And to make matters worse, the gentle caressing Scout had been supplying  him with has stopped altogether, in favor of the young man slinking away towards Heavy, apparently very intrigued by his earlier show of brute strength.

Sniper and Demo have fallen back into leisurely kisses at the other end of the table, and Soldier is busy being whispered to by Spy in a way that’s making his cheeks grow pink as the lanky Frenchman presses a hand to his waist.

The Engineer is left totally to Medic’s mercy.

He doesn’t exactly mind. Medic is a perfect gentleman for the most part. He feeds Engineer at a steady pace, allowing him time to chew and swallow and breathe between bites. He offers praises and soft words, asks about the food quality and what he likes best.

But he doesn’t touch him.

Beyond the hand on his neck Medic refuses to lay a finger of the Texan. He won’t rub his stomach, he won’t soothe away his cramps, or give him gentle kisses as a reward for all his work. 

Engie knows Medic knows he’s in pain. It’s clear from the way he smiles whenever the Texan groans and tries to rub away the worst of the cramps wracking him. He’s enjoying watching Engineer suffer.

He shouldn’t have expected anything less. It’s just like him to willfully watch the Texan squirm. He doesn’t give him much of a break between bites, producing for him a new mouthful as soon as he clears away the previous. Eventually the tightness doesn’t even register anymore, the Texan falls into an almost mechanical pattern of chewing and swallowing.

Dazing, he daydreams about what it’ll be like when he done. How big he’ll be, how full and round and heavy, how much he’ll be caressed and taken care of, how loved he’ll be. He’s brought out of his dozing by a very sharp pain to his belly, and he realizes that the Medic has smacked him.

“I think you vhere falling asleep,” the German reprimands, grasping him by the back of the neck to draw the drowsy Texan’s eyes up to his. “I don’t appreciate being disregarded.”

"I’m sorry," Engineer says, gasping a little. Being hit in the stomach like that shouldn’t feel so good. His cock shouldn’t be twitching in interest from the lingering sting and the image of Medic’s handprint blooming red and beautiful on his tight, round belly.

The sensation ripples through him from his full gut, wobbling in lazy spirals down his sides and slithering down his thighs to echo off his toes and settle back in his groin. The sting makes him feel awake and alert, his skin tingling like he’s been shocked with electricity.

“Zhat arouses you?” Medic takes a step back with a smirk. “Soldier, if you vould be so kind as to supply me vith your disciplinary action?”

The distracted Soldier turns his head upon hearing his name, and unstraps his riding crop from his boot. He hands it out to the Medic handle-first, and the German tests the elasticity of the shaft in his hand.

Engineer’s cheeks flush with excitement and a little bit of fear. This is a little more intense than he’d expected and he’s not sure if he’s going to last under the hard smack of the leather riding crop. But God, is he willing to try.

Medic snaps the crop down against his stomach with medium pressure, not as hard as he could, but certainly not light. It leaves a light pink line across Engie’s belly and a stinging sensation crawling across his skin.

“Open your mouth,” Medic orders, and Engie obeys so quickly his jaw pops. He chews and swallows, huffing through his nose and whimpering when the German reaches down to soothe the pink mark with his thumb.

Another bite is accompanied by another sharp smack to his stomach and the sound of the leather hitting his skin is starting to attract the attention of the other mercs nearby. Spy is still whispering in Soldier’s ear but his eyes are fixed on Medic’s hand and the crop. Demo and Sniper are no longer kissing, their attention focused on Engineer and the growing flush on his belly as they grind against each other.

“You aren’t hurting him, right?” Soldier asks warily. He only ever uses the crop on his team when they’re clothed, to whip them into a higher gear when they’re running on the battlefield. He’s never seen the results of the crop directly on skin.

“Ja, I am,” Medic croons, rubbing his palm flat across the Engineer’s gut, slithering his fingers between the thin welts and testing the heat that radiates off them with his fingertips. “But he likes it. Don’t you, Herr Engineer?”

"Medic is good dom," Heavy says before Engineer can answer. "Knows when enough is enough. Engineer will be fine." Engie can hear the lust in his voice and is sure the Medic will reassure the Russian of his place as his favored dom with much harsher treatment later.

But for now this is all his to enjoy. He nods and moans his agreement with Heavy’s statement, earning himself another whack with the crop as a reward.

Medic lets him drink deeply from one of the bottles to soothe and clear his throat, rubbing his chest and stomach while he gulps down the bitter carbonation. Leaning down, he kisses the Engineer’s Adam’s apple, feeling it bob against his tongue while he swallows. He can hear Heavy whimper in the back of his throat at the other end of the table and slips his hand down out of sight to grope the Texan between the legs. He knows how desperate the Russian will be later to please him, if he thinks for a moment that Medic might be enjoying Engie more.

Engineer’s eyes slip closed as Medic fondles him and he can’t resist pressing up into the man’s warm palm. He’s already hard and leaking, desperate for any friction that might bring him some relief despite Scout’s earlier attentions and has no qualms about taking what he can get from the doctor. Tonight is his night to indulge after all, he reasons.

He continues eating whenever something is pressed to his lips, and his whimpers become even more urgent when he can’t anticipate the sting of the crop until it hits him. Two of the dumplings disappear into his engorged belly, followed by the ninth strip of meat. He can’t breathe deeply anymore, his gut is so overextended that he can only pant shallowly through his swollen lips.

“You are exquisite,” Medic hums, taking a knee briefly to provide cool wet kisses to some of the angrier red marks on Engie’s belly. “So helpless. So vulnerable.”

"God, how much more? You keep this up there ain’t gonna be any room left in me for the rest of the meals."  Engineer groans, leaning back as far as he can to present himself to the Medic. "Or I might just pass out from the stimulation. Come on doc, I don’t think I can handle much more."

“You don’t have a choice,” Medic’s smile is sinister. “If you don’t finish mine, zhen you can’t move on to zhe others. Do you really vant to disappoint Demo, Heavy and Pyro? Zhey vorked just as hard as zhe rest of us.”

Engineer groans, more pained than pleased this time. That’s an awful lot of food he still has to get down. He might not be up for it.

He looks down at himself, at the red streaked bulge of his stomach. There’s still a significant layer of fat over the hardness of his full belly. Fat that can be stretched, can be thinned until it’s barely noticeable, leaving him round and firm to the touch. But is he up for it?

He looks past Medic for the answer, to where Demo is holding Sniper, their eyes fixed on him. He can’t disappoint them now. Not when they’ve given him so much over the weeks. He can’t quit before he’s had Demo’s meal.

And there’s Heavy, who’s so gentle and caring and has stood by and watched all of this. He deserves his reward as much as any of them.

And then there’s Pyro who’s finally opened up to someone. He can’t stop and not have any of the desserts she’s probably poured her sweet little heart into.

The Texan sets his face in a look of grim determination. He can do this, he has to. “Alright but no more games. It’s time to get down to business here Medic, you’ve had your fun.”

Medic gives a short bark of laughter. “Ja, alright zhen. Down to business.”

Apparently, for Medic, ‘down to business’ means ‘absolutely no mercy.’ He doesn’t give Engie any breaks between bites of meat, beans and dumplings. He sometimes gives him a reprieve in the form of a long drink of beer, but that only serves to make him feel fuller faster. He’s too full for the alcohol to really take any effect, so it only fills the empty spaces in his belly and makes him feel so tight he could cry.

He can hardly believe it when the last slice of meat goes down. The whole cut of meat was probably at least a pound, plus the four giant dumplings and stack of beans, and three whole bottles of beer – he’s full to bursting. He’s more than full at this point, he’s downright stuffed. And he still has _three meals to go_.

He almost pushes Medic away from him, half of him fearing that if he lets him stay any longer he’ll conjure more food from somewhere, the other half looking forward to the soothing gentleness of Demo’s affectionate touches.

Demoman is on him in an instant. He doesn’t even look at his own platter yet, preferring instead to give Engie a little TLC before forcing him through another course. He clearly needs the attention.

Settling on his knees between Engie’s thighs, he rubs both hands over the mountainous belly in front of him. “How are ye feelin’ laddie?” he asks, kissing some of the red marks on the other man’s stretched skin. “How’s it feel knowin’ ye got the lot of us all feedin’ you up with love?”

"It feels amazin’, darlin’." Engineer says, visibly relaxing under Demo’s hands. Medic’s sadistic approach had felt good, sure, but with Demo he feels safe enough to really put himself in the other’s hands. "But I feel fit to burst. You’re gonna have to be real gentle with me."

“Dunnae worry, my course isn’t nearly as aggressively large,” Demo laughs. “I figured that by the time ye got to me ye’d be in the mood for something a wee bit smaller.”

Engineer grins and places a hand on Demo’s cheek, guiding him up to meet his lips for a quick chaste kiss.

"You thought right darlin’. Another meal like that and I’d explode." he says, gritting his teeth against another cramp that wracks his protesting belly. He spreads a hand over his middle to rub the pain away only to have it gently pushed aside as the Scotsman’s own broad palm take its place.

“I’ll tell ye what though, it was hard gettin’ my hands on a live sheep,” Demo laughs, rubbing in slow, wide circles to soothe the loudly gurgling cramps curling through Engie’s belly.

"Pardon me?" Engineer says, staring down at Demo. "You mind repeatin’ that darlin’ I don’t think I heard you right."

“A sheep,” Demo says again. “Dunnae worry I prayed for its soul.”

"Sheep don’ have souls. But I am worried about you cookin’ up an entire sheep. Didn’ you say this was a light meal?" Engineer asks nervously.

Demoman laughs gaily and stands up. “Heavens, no, I didnae cook you an entire sheep. I butchered it an the rest is curin’ back in my room, I’ll be eatin’ it for weeks. I just cooked up the good parts for ye.”

“What exactly are the good parts?” Engie asks while Demo fetches his dish.

“The offal,” Demo grins, and lifts the hot cover off.

Engie can’t help his initial grimace. Though the uncovered dish gives off a very pleasant aroma of cooked spiced meat, the appearance of the dish itself is questionable. It appears to be a swollen, tan softball covered in veins, beside modestly proportioned heaps of mashed potatoes and mashed something that definitely isn’t potatoes because it’s bright orange.

“Haggis, neeps and tatties,” Demo grins, apparently oblivious to the Engineer’s reluctance.

"Mind rephrasin’ that in English partner?" Engineer asks, listing his fork to poke suspiciously at the strange tan ball of meat.

Demo rolls his eye playfully. “Haggis is meat, onions, oatmeal, lamb stock and fat all cooked in spices, neeps are like beets and I’m sure ye know what potatoes are.”

Engineer relaxes a little, breathing a sigh of relief. It’s all things he knows anyway, even if he’s never had them like this. That’s a comfort.

"Do you wanna feed me darlin’ or do you wanna watch me eat?" he asks, offering Demo the fork.

“Of course I wanna feed ye! But first,” he produces an unlabeled bottle. “Of my own creation. It’s a bit strong, but since ye shared yours with me, I’ll share mine with you.”

Demo sits on the table in front of Engie and puts his platter on his lap. He presses the side of the fork into the strange bloated meat ball, and it splits open easily. Inside is a dark, sort of lumpy mixture, but it certainly smells nice. He scoops up a good forkful, but leaves the casing out.

“Is that not part of it?” Engie asks and opens his mouth for the first bite. It’s warm and savory on his tongue, with flavors he’s never before experienced.

“Well ye _could_ eat it if ye really wanted to, it’s not toxic or anythin’ but the stomach is really only used to hold it all together and add extra flavor inside,” Demo laughs.

"You didn’ mention it was a stomach." Engineer says, wrinkling his nose as Demo lifts the forkful of the meaty mixture to his lips.

Still, he obediently opens his mouth and allows himself to be fed. To his surprise the haggis is actually quite good. Though dry from the oatmeal it’s not dissimilar to minced spiced beef. It’s tough to swallow but he manages to get it down, followed by a swig of the moonshine Demo brought along to ease the way.

“Yes I did,” Demo chuckles. “I told you it was offal.”

“I don’t know what that means, love,” Engie smiles nervously.

“Organs.” Demo is deceptively good-natured about it. “Heart, liver and lungs go into this dish, as well as a good bit o’ fat.”

"You knew I wouldn’t have the first clue what that means. You were tryin’ to trick me." Engineer scolds. "If I could get up I’d show you just what I think of that."

“Trick you? Never!” Demo grins. “I was afraid ye wouldn’t eat if ye knew what was in it before ye tried it.”

"Still a trick. And a dirty one at that. When all of this is over I’m gonna bend you over my knee and give you what you deserve," Engineer promises with a grin. "Lucky for you that’s pretty good. And I don’t mind eatin’ a few sheep organs."

Or rather, he doesn’t mind putting up a front. He’s never eaten organs, exactly. He almost tried liver once, but chickened out in favor of a burger. But he’d say anything to prevent hurting Demo’s feelings. The man butchered a sheep for him for God’s sake.

Thankfully, at this point, he can blame anything that resembles nausea on the fact that he’s so stuffed he can hardly breathe. He chases every bite with a swallow of potent moonshine, which has a much higher alcohol content than the German beer Medic had provided him. It’s not that the dish itself tastes bad exactly, it’s just knowing what’s in it that makes him a little uneasy.

In the south, when they slaughtered a deer or a cow, they always threw away the organs. Apparently the good people of Scotland never got the memo.

He tries telling himself it’s something else. Minced beef or some strange meatloaf. It works for a little while but then he looks down at the plate to see how much is left. As soon as he sees that sheep’s stomach looking back up at him there’s no way to keep the illusion alive.

He’s eating sheep organs. Internal organs. The thought almost makes him gag but he fights down the urge, burying it under a long drink from the moonshine bottle.

“Careful with that or you might go blind,” Demo teases, combining a forkful of the spiced savory pudding with a bite of potatoes. “It’s strong. Even with all that food in yer belly it’ll make ye light-headed if ye finish.”

"If it’ll make me go blind then you’re servin’ up the wrong sort of alcohol," Engineer says, eying the bottle suspiciously now. He doubts Demo is serious but it’s worrying all the same. Still, he doubts he can get the haggis down without the help of the moonshine. Not when his mind and body are in agreement in bringing it back up.

He won’t let that happen though. He isn’t going to lose his lunch because he can’t handle a few sheep’s organs. Not when that would mean insulting Demo. Not to mention losing all his progress so far. He’d rather die than hurt the man in front of him and he’ll definitely suffer through this on his behalf.

Demo continues to feed the Engineer, oblivious to his plight, heaping forkfuls of spiced offal and potatoes and rutabagas. If Engie ever grimaces or chokes, he assumes it’s because of the enormous meal the Texan has already consumed. He takes frequent breaks to rub his hand over the globe of a belly in front of him, and lavish the queasy southerner with neck and shoulder kisses.

“You look so good,” he promises the Engineer, kissing away the sweat on his brow.

"I- I know. Bet I’d look better if I could breathe." Engineer says, gasping. Between the feeding and the growing weight on his belly, pressing against his diaphragm as it seeks room to grow he’s having a hard time getting a lungful of air. "But if I got to go, what a way to end it."

Demo matches his laugh and kisses him gently, licking the savory taste from his lips. Behind him, he can hear Medic and Scout quietly conversing, until the young runner shouts,

“What do you _mean_ Engie’s eatin’ sheep organs! That’s friggin’ _nasty!_ He’s _eating_ them? _Willingly?_ ”

"Scout!" Engineer tries to shout but can’t quite get the breath for it. "You apologize to Demo right now! He worked hard on this dish and it’s part of where he’s from. Now apologize or I’ll ask Heavy to show you to the door!"

He knows it’s a little hypocritical since he’s been gagging on the haggis since he found out what’s in it. If he was a few years younger, with a little less time to adjust to social graces, he’d probably have said the same thing. But no matter how disgusting the concept of what he’s eating is he won’t let anyone insult one of his friends.

“Sorry for what, that he’s servin’ you the wrong damn parts of the sheep?” Scout barks a laugh. “Demo, you’re supposed’ta eat the _outside_ of the sheep, not the _inside!_ ”

“Ye knit sweaters outta the outside, boyo,” Demo says good-humoredly, he’s apparently heard all this before. “He doesnae have to apologize, Engie. I’ll get him back with some good old-fashioned sheep’s intestines. He won’t know when I’ll cook ‘em for him but I will.”

Engineer still isn’t satisfied. “Tonight is a special night. I won’t have any of you insultin’ each other’s cookin’ when you put so much hard work into this for me. It ain’t right.”

Demo looks over his shoulder at the younger man, and then at Sniper. The Aussie seems to understand what he’s trying to say without him speaking a word, because he stalk over to the kid and suddenly pins him belly-first onto the table.

“Sniper will take care of it,” he gestures towards the struggling, cursing boy as Sniper yanks his trousers down to expose his bare backside.

The sound of forceful spanking rings through the room, and gives Engineer a delightful medley of confused and aroused yelps to eat by.

Now that Scout has been well and truly shut up, and isn’t going to be reminding Engineer of what he’s eating anymore than the Texan is reminding himself, he can focus on the task of forcing down more of Demo’s dish.

He’s going slower now, his full belly painfully tight. He can fit more, he knows that, but it’s going to be a real challenge. Luckily there’s not too much left of the Scottish course. Demo hadn’t been lying when he said he’d tried to make a smaller meal for Engineer to push through.

When the last salty, nauseating bite of the haggis is on his tongue, he has trouble swallowing it down. He almost gags on it, and has to swallow twice when his first try almost brought up the rest of his enormous meal. When the offending offal is finally gone, finishing the potatoes and rutabagas is no challenge at all. Their flavor is fairly standard, but just knowing that they’re the product of the ground rather than the internal organs of a live animal makes them taste particularly wonderful. The alcohol numbs the memory of choking down an entire sheeps’s stomach and assorted insides, leaving him feeling warm and gooey from the hips down when he finishes up the last bite of potatoes.

Demo takes a few minutes to worship Engie, spreading his hands over every inch of the besotted, tipsy Texan. The Engineer makes eye contact with Scout, whose punishment had been handed over to Medic a few minutes ago, as he was the expert spanker.

The meal had been so hard to get through, it completely extinguished the Texan’s earlier arousal supplied to him by the man currently wringing helpless cries out of the pinned Scout. But it’s starting to reawaken as he watches the Scout writhe and buck and drool on the table top.

He’s allowed a small reprieve from the large meal while Heavy tries to catch Medic’s attention, to ask him for permission to present his dish. The man doesn’t appear to want to speak but is having some trouble communicating through facial expressions while the doctor is busy delivering harsh blows to the Scout’s bare backside.

When he does finally notice his lover he hands Scout over to Spy and answers the Russian’s unspoken question with a smile and a reassuring hand on his arm before ushering him forward.

Looking nervous Heavy moves the second to last dish forward and removes the cover, revealing a plate of what looks like noodles covered in some kind mushroom and beef gravy-sauce. Beside it he places a steaming cup of something that looks like very watery coffee.

"Beef stroganoff. Mother’s recipe," the Russian says, looking sheepish. "Am not fancy cook like others. Went with what I know and what I like. Was favorite dish as small child."

“Were you ever a small child?” the Engineer teases. Heavy smiles and prepares a comeback, but he never gets it out because the Engineer’s face morphs into a mask of shock in a split-second. He turns around to see what the Texan is looking at and chokes on his own gasp.

Scout’s wailing has been going on for a good ten minutes at least so it didn’t sound out of place when he shouted particularly loudly, Heavy just assumed he’d gotten a particularly sharp smack from Spy. He didn’t expect to see that Spy had opened his belt and entered the younger man.

The runner is scratching futilely at the table top, moaning and bucking back as well as he can, Spy’s grip on his hips is iron solid. He rubs his forehead against the wood and whines, capturing his lip in his buck teeth as the older man fucks into him relentlessly.

“Lord have mercy,” the Engineer whispers, raising a hand to his heart as his blood once more makes a beeline south. He will never get over watching Scout get fucked, he’s always so honest and enthusiastic.

Heavy watches them with mild interest for a moment. He was never much of a voyeur and sex as straightforward as this, even with Scout shouting and writhing like he is, holds almost no interest for him. Now if one of them was tied up, well that’d be different.

But they aren’t, so his attention soon refocuses on Engineer and the untouched plate in front of him.

"You will like it." he says, remembering the man’s hesitation at his last dish. "Beef and mushroom and some spices. No organs, promise. And drink is called sbiten. Is made from honey, jam and spices. Very good."

Engineer can barely tear his eyes away from the display at the other end of the table. He swallows hard and stares down at his next course with purpose. It’s hard to focus on anything with Scout’s voice rattling the ceiling.

“Ah fuck, Spy, don’t stop!” Scout’s voice is up half an octave and if that wasn’t enough to distract Engie, the fact that his noodles are jiggling slightly on the plate from the table’s slight rocking is.

“It looks delicious, Heavy,” he promises the anxious giant, reaching out to stop him wringing a layer of skin off his hands. He’s so full he can barely breathe, but Heavy looks so eager to please. At least he’s had a couple minutes to let things settle.

"Da! Is always good when mother makes it. Sauce looks heavier than it is. Goes down very easy." The Russian continues, at this point already having said more than most of the team will hear him say in a week when they aren’t out on the field.

Engie spears several noodles dripping with dark sauce, and a few mushrooms for good measure. When he takes the first bite, his overfull belly is forgotten for a moment. He moans and closes his eyes. He’s always been a fan of mushrooms, but his mother had been allergic to them so growing up he never got them. The whole dish has the faint taste of mushrooms, and he sucks sauce off his lower lip happily as he swallows his first bite.

He’s snapped out of his reverie when Scout’s cries suddenly become muffled. He looks up to see that the young man has been relocated to the corner of the table, where his other end is now occupied by Sniper’s cock. Engie moans involuntarily and tries to refocus on his meal.

"You are being very rude," Misha says to the trio, his tone a little strained, either from annoyance or disappointment. "Did not have sex when it was your turn. Did not distract Engineer from your dishes."

He looks at Medic, who knows how hard he worked on his dish, how difficult it was for him to work in the tiny kitchen with the little utensils, hoping for a little sympathy.

Medic just gestures at the Engineer with both hands, trying to encourage contact. He mouths “touch him” only because Engie is busy staring at the threesome.

Still nervous the large man leans down to place one of his very large hands on Engineer’s wide, round belly, while trying to adopt the sort of smirk he’s used to seeing on Medic when they’re alone together.

"But perhaps you are done eating? Maybe others have already filled you up too much and can not fit more? Is this why you watch little men instead of eat like real man?"

Engineer stares up at the larger man, stunned silent for a moment, but then his face spreads into a crooked grin. “Oh, is that what you think? Well I’ll show you, mister.”

Heavy’s hand feels wonderful on his stomach. It’s huge and warm, it covers so much more of his belly than any of the other men. He rolls his shoulders and brings the dish closer to him. It’s actually easier to ignore Scout now that he’s more or less muffled on Sniper’s cock. Heavy’s hand is also a wonderful grounding tool, especially as it rubs slow, wide circles into his achy belly.

He barely has to chew the noodles to send them down. They’re so wet and slippery and drenched in sauce, he can pretty much swallow them right down. At this point chewing is both a formality, and a stalling point just to give him more time to settle between bites.

"Do not forget sbiten." Heavy reminds him, pushing the cup forward. "Must drink while it is hot. Is better that way, will feel it all the way down and will warm you right down to toes."

The Texan grabs the cup, happy for a break in stuffing his aching belly, and blows on it. The aroma is light and fruity, and Engie tips the cup up to his lips to take a shallow sip. The flavor is primarily honey, with a very fruity aftertaste, leaving Engie smiling as the heat travels down into his belly.

“I bet this is wonderful in winter,” he licks his lips and takes a second sip despite his protesting gut. He’s got way more to force down than just a cup of hot… drink (tea?) so he ignores it in favor of the harmonious flavors.

"Da. And easier to get than coffee. Drink tea more often, is easier. But is nice treat," Heavy says with a nod. He sinks to his knees beside the other man so he can place both hands on his belly and take on a more submissive role. The change in position and the joy of looking up at Engie as a submissive to his dominant calms him almost instantly.

“Ohh, yes,” Engie tips his head back and puts the cup on the table to relax into the petting. He reaches over to stroke the back of Heavy’s neck in encouragement, and Medic gives the Russian a nod when he looks over for reassurance.

Leisurely, Engie continues to fork noodles into his mouth. He rubs Heavy’s shoulders and neck and hums while he chews. He can’t even feel the pain of his overstuffed gut anymore with Heavy’s constant and firm stroking.

“That feels heavenly,” he groans when a vicious, tight gurgle is instantly assuaged by Heavy’s giant hands. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t even register Scout anymore. He can’t feel the table rocking or hear his wet gagging, he can’t hear Spy’s pitched panting or Sniper’s low growls of approval. His world has shrunk down to contain only Heavy and the delicious meal in front of him.

Heavy knows that Engineer doesn’t mean for his words to come out as orders. He’s too caught up in the good feelings to realize exactly what he’s saying and differentiate between a command and a request. But that’s more than okay with the giant Russian. He’ll follow any orders given by the man right now, whether he means for them to be taken that way or not.

Every bite would be excruciating if it wasn’t for the pleasant, soothing weight of Heavy’s hands on his belly. This is more than he’s ever eaten in one go, he thinks as he regard the half-empty plate. It’s hard to believe that still more has disappeared inside him, and even worse to look up at the last platter remaining at the end of the table where Pyro has been a placid statue all evening.

He takes a break to sip more of the sweet liquid and arches his back to press his stomach into Heavy’s roaming hands with a content groan. He rubs his hand down the Russian’s back and rubs his side, gripping his pudge for a moment just to see color leech into his cheeks.

“You’re mighty good at this,” he praises, tipping the cup back to swallow the last of the hot drink with an audible swallow, and burps shallowly into his fist.

"Thank you." the Russian says, glowing from the praise. He loves being told he’s doing well, that he’s done something to please his dom. He can see how happy his food and his obedience is making Engineer and all he wants is to make him even happier.

Engineer looks down at the bigger man thoughtfully, licking the sweet flavor from his lips. “How’d you feel about usin’ your mouth a little?” he asks, smoothing his hand over the Russian’s stubbly head. “I bet your lips would feel divine.”

Heavy looks over at his Medic, still feeling the need to get permission, but it appears as though the Medic’s attention is thoroughly taken up by Demoman. The Scot is lying on his back on the table, eyes closed and smile lazy and wide in reverence, pinned in place by the Medic’s hand loosely around his neck. His legs are wrapped around the German’s waist while his rubber-clad hand roams the dark, chiseled body beneath him.

He’s definitely too busy to give Heavy permission to kiss Engie’s belly. In fact, he’s too busy to even acknowledge Heavy at the moment.

The thought sends a spike of jealousy shooting through the Russian, making him feel hot and uncomfortable and somewhat angry. If Medic can’t be bothered to watch him or even spare him a thought in passing then he will show him that he can do the same.

He turns to look up at Engineer, smiling sweetly, before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the top of his rounded belly. He works his way down, alternating soft kisses with wet, open mouthed ones, occasionally stopping to suck lightly on the taught skin, leaving behind red marks. His five o’clock shadow scratches at the sensitive skin of the Texan’s taut stomach, providing him with obvious areas of irritation to soothe with his lips and tongue.

“Ohhh,” Engie’s head tips back with a loud moan. He hadn’t been expecting such an enthusiastic response. Heavy seems like a reluctant sort of man, but apparently when he’s giving attention he really gives it.

He hears an echoing moan and looks across the table, his attention initially captured by Scout, who has apparently finished off Sniper and is now being fucked nice and slow over the table by Spy. He’s leaning across the boy to meet the Sniper in a passionate kiss, Scout all but ignored between them.

But then he sees Demo stretched out over the other side of the table like a lazy cat, arching into Medic’s ungloved hands with a happy hum, his lip swollen and bitten between his teeth.

He’s not a stupid man. He understands Heavy’s eagerness is a product of jealousy. But he’s also not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s not _his_ fault Medic can’t control himself when it comes to gorgeous bombers.

“You’re an angel,” he praises the Russian, rubbing his shoulder blade as he starts to eat again. He’s too full to even feel pain at this point. His nerve endings have stretched out to the point that pain is so dulled under the onslaught of pleasure from Heavy’s hands and mouth, he can barely register it. He feels warm and weighty and very, incredibly round. He’s so round he looks like he’s ready to deliver twins, and he’s not even halfway done.

Heavy moans at the praise, arousal spiking. He wants to make Engineer happy. Happy enough that he’ll give the Russian the rewards he deserves. He can imagine the Engineer ordering him to touch himself while he sucks him off. Telling him how to get himself off, how to suck, telling him to swallow him down and gag on his cock. Just thinking about it is making him painfully hard.

If he had his wits about him, Engie might give Heavy a little bit of the treatment he’s craving. But he’s drowning hard and fast under the combination of the weight in his belly and Heavy’s miracle-working hands.

He takes a bite bigger than he should and gasps when the resulting labored swallow hurts his throat all the way down. He coughs into his fist, his belly shaking in the Russian’s hands. He whimpers and tries to swallow a couple more times to clear his throat, but there’s no helping it. He doesn’t have any liquid left either, so his only option is to take another bite to clear his throat.

Heavy can feel every bite Engineer takes. He can feel the way his body moves as he swallows it down and he felt him shake as he coughed and worked the too big bite down his abused throat to his stomach. He wishes he had brought more sbiten for the man but he figures this is another chance to prove to the Texan what a good sub he can by helping sooth him through the pain.

Engineer breathes through the ache in his throat, soothing it instead with gravy and well-chewed noodles, even if they are soft enough to go down without. He swallows down fifteen more bites dripping with sauce and laden with noodles. The difference in tightness is so negligible that he can just keep eating. He has to go slow, deliberate, taking his time to savor the bites before forcing them down. Even if his belly is over the abuse, his throat is protesting every swallow.

He needs some good, old-fashioned distraction. Rather than pitch the idea to Heavy, he just grabs one of the man’s hands and slides it down beneath the curve of his belly between his thighs.

Heavy groans, glad to know he has done well enough to touch Engineer like this and even more pleased to know what is expected of him now. Eagerly he begins to knead the other man’s erection through his pants. He presses and rubs, offering as much friction and pleasure as he can until he is ordered to do more.

Engineer chances a look up at Medic. He’s leaned over Demo, frotting the daylights out of the poor man, clutching the Medic over him with loud pants through his nose. The doctor is whispering something in the younger man’s ear that has him whimpering low in his throat.

He looks back down at his meal and then down at his gravid belly. “You know,” he starts, and Heavy’s attention instantly snaps up to his dom’s face. “Your fingers are big. Really big. I want you to finger me.”

Heavy suddenly goes still. He’s never done that before. Medic’s never asked for it before. He usually tops, and when he doesn’t he always works himself open, making Heavy watch and wait, getting more and more aroused and desperate.

"Do not know how," he says quietly, looking down in shame. "Have only ever touched myself that way before."

“It ain’t so hard, trust me,” the Engineer gives a little chuckle and rubs the bigger man’s cheek. “Not like you’re gonna hurt me. Any of you fellas bring lube?”

“I did,” Sniper says, digging into his vest pocket and tossing a jar of Vaseline at the Engineer.

“You’re a saint,” Engie smiles at the Aussie as he sits down beside Scout to rub his hands through the exhausted young man’s hair.

He hands the jar to Heavy and draws him up onto his knees by his jaw to give him a little kiss. “Take your time. Explore. I want you to ravish me,” he smiles against the nervous Russian’s lips.

Heavy gives him a shaky smile. He gives Engineer’s belly one last rub before lowering his hands to the man’s boots. He eases them both off and sets them carefully aside before moving on to his pants. They’re already open so all he has to do is urge the man to lift his hips so he can tug them off. He takes the time to fold them neatly and set them aside with the man’s boots before gently pushing his knees apart, exposing him for the first time that night.

To say that Engineer looks like the picture of indulgence would be an understatement. Legs spread open to expose his pulsing ring of muscle, hidden in part by his heavy, half-hard cock, all beneath a magnificent globe of a gut. He’s dusted from head to toe in a heady blush, still a little drunken from Demo’s encounter, and completely aroused.

He angles his hips to give Heavy better room to work with and goes right back to eating. He chews and encourages the Russian’s fingers into the Vaseline before guiding his wrist to his opening with a nod.

When Heavy’s pointer finger slides into him, he lets out a moan too high-pitched to be decent. He instantly clenches on instinct, but actively relaxes the muscles to accept the long, thick digit. “Oh, lord,” he pockets the noodles in his cheek in order to groan the words out.

Heavy looks up at Engineer’s face, hoping for some sense of what he likes and if he’s doing well. He seems pleased, and Heavy relaxes a little, glad that he’s doing well. He starts to slowly slide his finger in and out of the Texan, working his finger deeper with every push forward, hoping to open him up slowly and really take him apart.

Engie’s hips twitch every few seconds against his will. He can’t keep them still as Heavy’s exploring finger shoots white bolts of lightning up his body. His cock dribbles precome on Heavy’s wrist, but he’s too out of it to notice.

In fact, he’s so out of it that he forgets to keep eating. He throws his head back with a loud moan when Heavy’s second finger eases into him, and the pressure makes him forget everything he was doing. God bless Heavy and his glorious giant fingers.

Meal forgotten for a moment, he sits back to just enjoy the ride. He clutches his stomach with both hands and closes his eyes, moaning open-mouthed and flagrant, rocking his hips down to meet Heavy’s digging fingers.

“You aren’t finished yet, son,” he hears, and opens his hazy eyes to see Soldier standing over him. “You haven’t finished private Heavy’s dish, and that is rude!”

“I’m sorry Heavy I – oh lord!” his hips jerk again and precome jets from his dick and lands on the Russian’s knee. “Christ, I’m sorry I’m just – you’re just – oh, heaven help me.”

“Heaven is busy,” Soldier says. “I will help you.”

Engie never knew he was into being fed so much. From here on out there’s going to be a whole new circle of things to try with his lovers. He opens his mouth for Soldier’s bites and chews on auto-pilot, shaking under the alternating mind-wiping pleasure of Heavy’s fingers curling into him and literal gut-wrenching pain of being so god damn _full_.

Heavy is a little shaken from his dom apologizing like that. Doms don’t apologize unless you safeword, that’s what he’s always been told. But Engineer is a new dom and doesn’t know the rules. He doesn’t know doms don’t apologize, even when they make a mistake. Which they usually don’t, that’s the point of being in charge. But forgetting to eat when he’s supposed to is a big enough mistake to warrant an apology so Heavy will let it go this time. Maybe they can talk about it afterward, if he does well.

And he will do well. He knows he will, because he’s doing everything he’s ever done to himself before to drive the Engineer wild. He knows what feels good on his body, where to tease and press and rub to get the muscles to relax in the most blissfully satisfying way. And it all seems to be working on the Engineer who has gone back to slurping down his dish with renewed enjoyment. A sight which in and of itself is a reward for Heavy who is being denied his usual praises thanks to his dom’s full mouth.

Pampered beyond belief, minus the occasional queasy lurch of his protesting belly, Engie feels better than he ever has. He swallows mouthful after mouthful without protest, groaning out loud whenever Heavy’s fingers hit the right spot. When he opens his mouth and another bite doesn’t come, his eyes creak open and he sees the plate is empty.

He can’t believe it. Seven meals have disappeared inside him. His belly is so big he can’t see his own dick, he can’t see Heavy’s hand, he can’t even see his own feet from this angle. He opens his mouth to make a request civil-like, but Heavy chooses that exact moment to ram his fingers against his self-destruct button, and he gives a bark of pleasure louder than is proper.

“Oh lord I need someone inside me!” he cradles his belly with a cry as Heavy’s fingers wriggle deeper still, panting loudly and writhing in his seat. “I need someone to pound me good, please, anyone.”

Heavy pulls back, sliding his finger free of Engineer. His turn is over. His meal has been finished and Engie doesn’t need him anymore. The thought leaves a heavy, painful ache deep in his stomach and he knows the only thing that can fix it. Head hanging he crawls, on hands and knees, over to his true dom, hoping the Medic will give him what he needs while someone else takes care of the Engineer.

Medic instantly abandons Demoman on the table for his sub, crooning to him and crouching as the man approaches him beneath the table. He draws him in for a sweet kiss before grabbing the back of his collar and dragging him forward as he sits back in his seat. He crushes Heavy’s face into his clothed cock with the subtlety of a nuclear explosion, and hooks a knee over the elated Russian’s shoulder.

Free now to move, Demo quickly seizes the opportunity before anybody else does. He helps the Engineer out of his seat and lays him down on the table. “I’ll take care of ye, laddie,” he promises, kissing reverently at the Engineer’s enormous, gravity-defying belly.

Engineer groans happily. He knows these hands and these lips. He knows the man holding him now and knows he can rely on him to take him apart in all the right ways.

Still he turns his head to look for Pyro, extending a hand to her when his eyes meet the dark glass sockets of her mask. “It’s your turn now darlin’” he says in spanish, groaning in pleasure and pain. “You gotta finish me off now. Fill up the last little spaces.”

“You speak Spanish?” the Spy blurts as Pyro makes her presence known for the first time that night, creeping out of the corner she’d been standing perfectly still and obedient in. “Pyro speaks Spanish?”

Neither of the two respond to spy as Pyro crawls across the table. She sits cross-legged and rests Engie’s head in her lap, smoothing gloved hands over the Texan’s huge, rock-solid belly.

She draws her tray nearer, piled with colorfully frosted and decorated cinnamon churros. She looks up at Demo and gives him a nod, waiting until the Scot pushes the first few inches into Engineer. Just as she hoped, Engie’s mouth drops open with a loud moan, and she takes advantage of the gaped lips to sneak the frosted tip of a churro inside.

Engineer’s mouth closes around the churro with a groan. He’s never felt like this before. Demo’s cock is even bigger than Heavy’s fingers if that’s possible and it’s almost too good for him to stand. Combined with the churro being slowly fed to him, filling his mouth with sweet frosting and delicious fried dough, he feels as if he’s truly died and gone to heaven.

Demo rests both his hands on Engineer’s belly, pinning him in place as he starts to rock his hips into the older man. His head drops back with a loud moan, biting down on his lip so his own voice won’t eclipse Engie’s soft noises of complete satisfaction.

Pyro pulls her gloves off after feeding the Engineer the first churro, so Engie can suck the sugar off her fingers for the rest of them. She leans down and nuzzles the filter of her gas mask against his cheek in a mock kiss before lifting another churro, this one glazed in pale green frosting and decorated with crushed pistachios.

The pistachios add a lovely crunch to the soft fried dough and creamy frosting and the sweet nuttiness is a lovely addition to the already sugary dessert. He’d never tried pistachios on his churros before but it’s something he’ll have to keep in mind next time he makes them.

If he remembers anything from tonight. He has a distinct feeling that he might black out from the intensity of the pleasure he’s feeling and forget everything. Which would be a real shame if it didn’t mean he’d have to request a reenactment of tonight.

Pyro watches Engie’s face for a few beats. She feels him rock in her lap, the crown of his head brushing her suited belly. She smoothes her hands over his sweaty brow and just observes. She watches the way his eyes scrunch and his mouth opens in a perfect “o” of pleasure, the way his brows lift and his nostrils flare, the way blood rushes to his face and dyes it bright red.

She looks up at Demoman and sees him making the same faces. Sex is so weird, she thinks. Both of them look like they’re in pain, and it’s a whole lot of work for not a big reward. Eating this much, she thinks, is so much more satisfying. But if Engie likes it, then that’s up to him.

She feeds him another churro and another and another, all while Demoman’s thrusts take on a slightly more manic speed, pounding into him like he’s actively trying to break the table.

Engineer is sure he’s going to burst. He’s too full. Too full of food, he can’t possibly take another bite. Too full of demo, surely another thrust will be his undoing. Too full of joy, there’s no room left for any more pleasure.

But more keeps coming. More food that he swallows and swells to accomadate, more thrusts that rock his belly and the table beneath him and send pleasure shooting through his core, adding to the bubble of bliss growing inside him and threatening to erupt. He’s so close to the edge, so very close. One more bite, one more thrust, that’s all it will take he’s sure of it.

"Pyro, darlin’" he gasps between bites, lifting his hands again to take hers. He wants to hold her. He wants to lace their fingers together and use her to ground him, to keep him here so he can extend this moment forever.

She lifts her mask just far enough to expose her lips and leans down to give Engie a sweet kiss, taking both of his hands in hers. That’s all it takes for him to come with a shout. His whole body tenses, his belly cramps, and his muscles vibrate with energy.

All eyes are fixed on him as he comes. His voice is heavenly, if exhausted and raw, and the sight of their Engineer in bliss has everyone crowding a little closer. Suddenly hands descend upon Engie and his eyes snap open to see that Scout, Sniper, Spy and Soldier have all found room to rub his belly together. Heavy has taken to rubbing his shoulders and Medic observes from the sidelines with an approving smile.

He feels overwhelmed with love, and something else – oh, that would be Demo. He’s not quite finished yet. He feels too hot and too tight now, but Engie will struggle through it for Demoman’s sake. He looks like he’s close anyway.

Luckily he’s distracted from the oversensitive feeling of being fucked after his orgasm when Spy lifts another churro from Pyro’s tray and holds it up for Engie to eat. When it’s swallowed down with a little difficulty, Pyro gives him another, but then Medic decides to feed him one, and then Soldier. They come so quickly he has no time to rest between them, and all while completely overwhelmed by the rapid scorching thrusts of Demo’s cock inside him.

He chews and swallows and chews and swallows, rapidly taking churro after churro into his body, until they are a blurr, the pace of his eating matching demo’s thrusts so it all comes together in one glorious rhythm. Bite, chew, thrust, swallow, over and over, letting his mind float away in a haze of pleasure and pain. These are his lovers and friends, the people who care most for him, and they’re all here together taking care of him. Knowing that is enough to make him cry with joy as he finishes off the last churro that he is sure has filled any empty space that could possibly have been left inside him.

Demo comes not a moment later, and Engie realizes he was wrong, there was one space left to fill. He turns his head dizzily to the side and sees that the tray is empty.

He did it. He finished eight meals. He stares down at his belly with an astonished expression as Demo pulls out of him and sags backwards into Soldier’s arms. He can’t believe how enormous his stomach is. He didn’t think it was possible for one person to eat so much. He’s perfectly round, and absolutely rock solid, not even an inch of his fatty paunch left to cushion his bloated form.

“You look beautiful,” Sniper says first, breaking the silence that fell over the room in the wake of earth-shattering lovemaking.

“Exquisite, cher,” Spy concurs, leaning down to kiss the Engineer’s navel.

“Most handsome man in the state. Probably the world!” Soldier crows, slapping the Texan’s thigh with glee.

“Truly a fine specimen of masculinity,” Medic supplies curtly, but Engie can see the affectionate gleam in his eye.

“I can’t take my sight off ye, laddie, yer the most fine-lookin’ thing I ever laid eye on,” Demo grins.

“You’re so hot I’m never gonna be able to jerk off to anything but you ever again, you ruined me!” Scout whines playfully, cradling the bottom of the Engineer’s belly with a smile.

“He looks good now that we have taken care of him, like he takes care of us,” Heavy smoothes a giant hand down Engie’s heaving belly.

“I love you,” Pyro whispers quietly, in English, and leans down to kiss the Texan’s chin.

"I love you too,"  Engineer whispers back in Spanish before turning his eyes the rest of the room at large.

"Ya’ll are too sweet. This has been the happiest day of my life. If I could get up I’d hug each of you and find a way to never let go," he says, tearing up again. "I love all of you, really. You’re the best friends, and lovers and partners a man could ask for."

“Can I tell him now?” Soldier whispers to Spy.

Spy rolls his eyes. “Yes, alright, I’m impressed that you’ve ‘eld it in all night honestly.”

“Scout, Sniper and I took all of the blankets and pillows we could find and made a fort of epic proportions in the common room!” Soldier blurts like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

“We’re all gonna stay there tonight. Even got the quack to agree to it,” Scout thumbs at the Medic with a toothy grin.

“Ja, on zhe condition zhat I don’t have to touch any of you,” Medic says brusquely, crossing his arms and looking away.

"Except me. I am barrier," Heavy says happily. He looks to Medic for permission to stand. A nod is all he needs to clamber to his feet and lift Engineer into his large arms, cradling him as gently as a child. "I will carry you to nest. Then we will all sleep together."

The fort really is stunning. Apparently someone had rooted through his workshop and stolen some of the spare lights that he puts on top of his sentries, and strung them up on wires. Probably Demo’s doing. The entire massive fort is awash in a warm pink glow from the dozens of little red bulbs.

“It’s beautif- urp,” Engie tries to say, but the walking jostled a burp out of his belly that he stifles into his fist.

“Friggin’ right it is, took us like a whole hour to make too,” Scout says as Heavy lowers the encumbered Texan down onto a small throne of pillows.

“We built it because we love you,” Sniper says, taking a spot near Engie’s head to give the sleepy Engineer a chaste kiss.

“Even if some of our number refuses to admit it!” Soldier barks, staring hard at Medic, who is directly beside Spy. The two of them quickly look away.

Pyro settles don on one side of Engineer and Scout takes the other. Soldier curls up at his feet like a protective guard dog while Demo settles behind Scout and Spy takes his place next to him, each of them wrapping their arms around each other to create a linked chain all the way to Engie. After some thought Heavy lays down behind Pyro who seems pleased by the warm bulk on either side of her, but turns away to hold Medic against his chest, keeping them both still effectively linked to the rest of the pile.

The whole mess is too warm and cramped and there’s no room to wiggle around for comforts sake. Scout’s arm is heavy on his belly and Engineer wishes he could hold more than just Pyro’s hand and had a better pillow. Sniper is snoring loudly and Spy is smoking and on any other occasion the whole thing would be too dreadful to stand.

But he’s never been more comfortable. He’s never felt cozier or safer than he does right now, happily surrounded by the people dearest to him. And the Texan has no doubt that, despite the uncomfortable arrangement and the painful cramping in his belly, he will never sleep better than he will tonight.

He might not have planned on making friends when he joined the war, but he’s so very glad that he did.


End file.
